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LUCY  FOSTER   MADISON 


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LINCOLN  ROOM 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


MEMORIAL 

the  Class  of  1901 

founded  by 

HARLAN  HOYT  HORNER 

and 

HENRIETTA  CALHOUN  HORNER 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


http://archive.org/details/lincolnOOmadi 


Lincoln   Established  Himself  in  Their  Good  Graces  hi    His 
Drollery    \m>  Ability  to  Discuss  Affairs  of  State 


LINCOLN 


Lucy  Foster  Madison 

-Author  of 

"JoanofJIrc''  Zafaycue"  "Washington" 

Illustrated  and 
Decorated     £y 

Frank  E  Schoonover 


The  Yervn  Rxblishing 
Company     CsS>     Philadelphia, 


COPYRIGHT 
1928  %  BY 
THE  PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 


Lincoln 


Made  in  the   U.   S.  A. 


To 

The  Memory 
of 

My  Father, 
JUDGE  GEORGE  W.  FOSTER 

A  KENTUCKIAN  AND  A  DEMOCRAT, 
WHO  KNEW  AND  LOVED 

ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


Contents 


IFUPTEB  PAGE 

I     A  Narrow  Escape 11 

II     Life  in  the  Cabin 25 

III  The  Move 36 

IV  The  New  Home 43 

V     A  New  Order  of  Things 53 

VI     Abraham's  World  Expands 64 

VII     The  End  of  School  Days 79 

VIII     A  Glimpse  of  the  Great  World 92 

IX  The  Land  of  the  Illini — "The  Land  of  Grown-Up 

Men" Ill 

X     "Honest  Abe" 123 

XI     An  Unexpected  Honor 140 

XII     Postmaster  and  Surveyor 152 

XIII     A  Plunge  into  Politics 166 

XIV     In  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 177 

XV     "The  Long  Nine" 190 

XVI     "The  Sangamon  Chief" 199 

XVII     A  Tempestuous  Courtship 211 

XVIII     The  Rising  Politician 226 

XIX     The  Honorable  Abraham  Lincoln 236 

XX     In  Private  Life 248 

XXI     The  Fallow  Years 260 

XXII     The  Statesman 271 

XXIII     The  Gathering  Storm 283 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGH 

X  XIV     A  Battle  of  Giants 292 

XXV     The  Man  prom  Illinois 309 

XXVI     "Old  Abram  Is  the  Man" 321 

XXVII     The  Breaking  of  the  Storm .  337 

XXVIII     "Father  Abraham" 348 

XXIX     The  Martyr 359 


Illustrations 

PAQH 

Lincoln  Established  Himself  in  Their  Good  Graces  by  His 
Drollery  and  Ability  to  Discuss  Affairs  of  State,    Frontispiece 

Often  Travellers  Stopped  for  the  Night  and  There  Fol- 
lowed an  Evening  of  Talk 32 

One  of  Lincoln's  Favorite  Perches  Was  on  Top  of  an  Old- 
fashioned  Rail  Fence 68 

Abe  and  His  Crew  Made  a  Quick  Voyage  Down  the  Broad 
Mississippi 120 

Lincoln  Told  Them  His  Ideas  on  the  Leading  Questions  of 
the  Day 168 

He  Found  Himself  More  and  More  Attracted  by  Mary  Todd 
and  She  Encouraged  His  Visits 220 

The  Debate  Between  Lincoln  and  Douglas 302 

Lincoln  and  Grant  in  Front  of  the  White  House  ....   362 


"His  life  was  gentle,  and  the  elements 
So  mixed  in  him,  that  Nature  might  stand  up, 
And  say  to  all  the  world,  'This  was  a  man.'  " 

Julius  Caesar.  Act  Vth,  Scene,  5th. 

Shakespeare. 


LINCOLN 


CHAPTER  ONE 


A   NARROW   ESCAPE 


"Tom!" 

"Yes,  Nancy."  Thomas  Lincoln  took  his  pipe  out  of  his 
mouth,  and  straightening  up  from  the  big  persimmon  tree 
against  which  he  had  been  lounging,  turned  toward  the  woman 
who  stood  in  the  cabin  door.  "Was  you  a-wantin'  anything?" 

"I'm  oneasy  about  them  boys,  Tom,"  replied  Nancy  Hanks 
Lincoln,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hands  and  gazing  across 
the  valley  to  the  forest  beyond,  anxiety  plainly  stamped  upon 
her  dark,  sad  features. 

She  was  a  sweet-faced,  brown-haired  woman,  a  little  above 
middle  height.  There  were  shadows  around  her  hazel  eyes,  and 
though  she  was  but  thirty-three  years  of  age  veins  of  silver 
were  already  shining  in  her  brown  hair.  Her  appearance  was 
that  of  a  woman  who  had  known  tragedy,  but  whom  tragedy 
had  only  made  sweeter.  Her  voice  had  the  soft  burr  of  her 
native  Virginia,  and  there  was  a  natural  grace  about  her  move- 
ments. 

"They  have  been  gone  since  dinner,"  she  went  on,  "and  it's 

nigh  five  o'clock  now.  Both  Mrs.  Gollaher  and  me  air  that 

oneasy  we  don't  know  what  to  do.  Besides,  Mrs.  Gollaher  says 

it's  high  time  she  and  Austin  was  starting  for  home." 

n 


12  LINCOLN 

"Shucks!  the  sun's  high  yit.  There's  plenty  of  time  for  her  to 
git  home,  and  she'd  better  make  up  her  mind  to  stay  for  supper. 
Them  boys  air  all  right." 

And  Thomas  settled  back  lazily  against  the  tree.  He  was  a 
tall  man,  broad-shouldered,  powerfully  built,  and  somewhat 
rough  looking;  but  he  was  good,  honest,  true,  and  kind;  full 
of  the  love  of  fields  and  woods.  A  man  of  peaceable  and  inof- 
fensive temper,  but  who,  when  roused,  would  turn  on  the 
offender  with  dire  consequences.  Now,  as  Nancy  continued  to 
voice  her  uneasiness,  he  rose,  and  grumbling  at  the  fancies  of 
women,  strolled  off  into  the  forest  in  search  of  the  belated  boys. 

The  cabin  stood  under  some  spreading  trees  on  a  knoll,  in 
a  beautiful  green  valley  which  ran  back  between  high  lime- 
stone bluffs,  heavily  wooded.  It  was  a  wide  valley,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  which  was  a  stream  of  clear  water  running  over  stones 
to  the  Salt  River,  and  thence  on  to  the  great  river  beyond — 
the  Ohio. 

The  house  was  built  of  logs,  cut  from  the  timbers  near  by, 
and  chinked  with  mud.  A  rough  chimney  was  reared  outside, 
and  the  fireplace  was  as  long  as  Thomas  Lincoln  was  tall.  The 
farm  was  situated  in  the  forks  at  Knob  Creek,  as  the  stream 
was  called,  and  only  three  fields  were  cultivated.  Thomas  Lin- 
coln made  no  attempt  to  till  the  hillslopes,  the  three  fields  afford- 
ing him  sufficient  labor.  But  when  the  woods  abound  in  game, 
and  a  man  can  largely  support  himself  and  family  by  his  gun 
he  is  not  apt  to  be  much  of  a  husbandman.  He  and  his  kind  are 
the  advance  guard  of  civilization,  not  tillers  of  the  soil  nor 
lovers  of  close  communities. 

The  highway  from  Louisville  to  Nashville  ran  in  front  of 
the  door — the  "most  important  turnpike  in  that  part  of  the 
world,  and  one  freely  travelled."  In  spite  of  this  fact,  the  cabin 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  13 

and  its  surroundings  were  primitive  and  in  the  backwoods ;  but 
then  the  whole  State  of  Kentucky,  in  this  June  of  1815,  was 
primitive  and  in  the  backwoods.  It  was  just  beginning  to  work 
into  the  long  toilsome  path  towards  civilization. 

Meantime,  there  had  been  good  cause  for  the  uneasiness  of 
the  women  concerning  their  sons.  It  was  a  pioneer  custom 
among  the  settlers  on  Knob  Creek  to  visit  each  other  on  Sun- 
day when  there  was  no  church.  So,  in  neighborly  fashion,  Mrs. 
Gollaher  and  her  son  had  come  over  to  spend  the  day  at  the 
Lincoln  cabin.  The  two  lads — Austin  Gollaher  and  Abraham 
Lincoln,  Thomas  and  Nancy  Lincoln's  son — were  close  friends, 
and  had  gone  off  by  themselves  directly  after  the  midday  meal ; 
the  dinner  of  fried  wild  turkey  poults,  poke  greens,  and  corn 
pone  putting  them  in  condition  for  any  boyish  prank. 

"Where'll  we  go,  Abe?"  asked  Austin  who  was  the  older, 
when  they  had  scampered  out  of  sight  of  the  house. 

"Up  the  crick,  Austin,"  replied  Abraham  Lincoln.  "There's 
more  fun  up  there;  and  we  haven't  been  near  it  today." 

At  once  they  struck  off  up  the  valley  by  the  side  of  the 
stream,  and  into  the  forest.  There  was  a  great  contrast  in  the 
appearance  of  the  two  boys.  They  were  respectively  eight  and 
six  years  of  age;  but  Austin,  the  older  one,  was  smaller  and 
more  compactly  built  than  Abraham  who,  though  two  years  his 
junior,  might  easily  have  been  taken  for  three  years  older.  He 
was  shy,  overgrown,  consciously  awkward,  homely  and  ill-clad. 
He  grew  so  rapidly  that  his  mother  complained  that  it  was 
impossible  to  make  his  clothes  lit.  The  growth  that  had  come 
to  him  so  fast  was  indicated  not  only  by  his  size,  but  by  the 
queer  thoughtful  expression  of  his  strongly  marked  features. 
His  sunburned  face  was  full  of  good  humor  and  fun,  yet  it 
was  tinged  with  melancholy  strange  in  one  so  young.  An  odd- 


14  LINCOLN 

looking  lad,  he  would  have  been  called,  but  there  was  some- 
thing about  him  that  caught  and  held  the  attention. 

The  boys  ran  on  for  a  time  without  stopping,  rolled  over 
and  over  in  the  grass,  and  shouted  their  joy  as  loudly  as  they 
Avished,  for  there  was  none  to  forbid.  They  dug  out  wood- 
chucks,  explored  the  deep  cane  brakes  and  chased  muskrats. 
It  was  June,  and  it  was  glorious  to  have  the  afternoon  to  them- 
selves. The  birds  sang  in  every  tree,  and  bush,  and  field. 
There  sounded  the  song  of  the  cheery  blackbird,  the  whistle  of 
the  thrush,  and  the  passionate  notes  of  the  wood  doves.  There 
were  neither  sights  nor  sounds  save  Nature's  own.  Suddenly 
the  whir  of  a  partridge  as  she  left  her  brood  brought  the  ur- 
chins to  an  abrupt  standstill.  Abraham  turned  to  his  compan- 
ion, and  pointing  to  the  east  side  of  the  creek,  said : 

"Right  up  there  we  saw  a  covey  of  partridges  yesterday. 
Let's  cross  over,  and  see  if  they  are  there  still." 

"All  right,"  assented  the  other.  "But  how'll  we  git  across? 
The  crick's  too  high  to  jump  over  it." 

There  had  been  a  heavy  rain  the  night  before,  and  the  waters 
of  Knob  Creek  were  swollen  and  turbulent.  There  was  no 
place  to  cross  in  that  vicinity  so  the  boys  followed  the  eddying 
current  for  a  time  until  at  length  they  came  to  a  spot  where 
the  stream  narrowed  and  a  footlog  stretched  from  bank  to 
bank.  Abraham  eyed  it  critically. 

"We  can  coon  over  that,"  he  announced.  "I'll  go  first,  Aus- 
tin." 

"No,  let  me,"  protested  Austin.  "I'm  older,  you  know." 

There  was  some  parleying  about  who  should  cross  first, 
but  eventually  Abraham  yielded  to  the  claims  of  his  guest, 
and  without  more  ado  Austin  grasped  hold  of  the  log,  and 
"cooned"  over.  It  was  slippery  and  narrow,  and  there  was 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  15 

grave  danger  of  falling,  if  one  lost  one's  head.  But  when  did 
such  facts  ever  deter  a  lad  from  following  his  natural  bent  for 
daring?  Austin  having  reached  the  other  side  in  safety,  Abra- 
ham, as  a  matter  of  course,  straddled  the  pole,  and  essayed  to 
follow  him.  But  he  had  not  reckoned  on  his  weight  and  length. 
Half  way  across  the  log  began  to  wobble.  He  was  heavier  than 
Austin,  and  his  long  legs  could  not  grasp  the  sides  of  the  log 
easily.  In  fact,  he  could  not  manage  them  at  all.  He  knew  that 
he  was  on  the  point  of  falling,  and  began  to  tremble.  Austin 
saw  him  pause,  realized  that  he  was  scared,  and  shouted : 

"Don't  look  up,  nor  down,  nor  sideways,  Abe.  Look  right  at 
me,  and  hold  on  tight." 

Abe  tried  to  obey  but  his  head  was  dizzy  from  the  turmoil 
of  the  stream  beneath  him;  so,  despite  the  fact  that  he  did  his 
best,  his  glance  wandered  to  the  banks  overhung  with  syca- 
mores and  elms,  and  along  the  slopes  where  heavy  fringes  of 
willow  dipped  into  the  current.  Suddenly  he  lost  his  balance, 
and  toppled  head  first  into  the  water.  It  was  about  seven  or 
eight  feet  deep  at  this  place,  but  it  seemed  to  the  frightened 
boy  that  he  was  sinking  into  a  bottomless  abyss. 

As  is  the  case  with  all  tyros  an  unreasoning  panic  seized  him 
as  he  sank.  He  gasped  for  breath,  and  his  lungs  filled  with  wa- 
ter. Terror-stricken  he  struggled,  striking  out  desperately  with 
his  long  arms  and  legs.  Grabbing  wildly  with  both  hands  as  he 
rose,  he  touched  something;  something  firm,  solid,  reassuring. 
He  clutched  it;  clung  to  it  with  convulsive  strength,  and  felt 
himself  being  pulled  through  the  water. 

The  next  he  knew  Austin  was  rolling  him  on  the  ground, 
shaking  and  pummeling  him  vigorously.  Abe  endured  it  until 
he  could  stand  no  more  of  it.  By  a  mighty  effort  he  flung  him 
off,  and  demanded: 


16  LINCOLN 

"Say,  what  air  ye  trying  to  do  to  me?" 

"I'm  a  tryin'  to  git  the  water  outen  ye,"  Austin  explained 
with  a  last  emphatic  punch.  "Air  ye  all  right,  Abe?  You'd  bet- 
ter lay  still  fer  a  spell." 

"Did  I  drown,  Austin?"  asked  Abe  sinking  back  weakly  on 
the  ground. 

"Well,  I  reckon  not.  You  don't  look  it,"  his  friend  reassured 
him.  "Though  you  did  come  mighty  nigh  to  it.  I  thought  you 
was  a  goner  sure  though  when  I  stuck  the  pole  out  to  you. 
Golly!  but  you  did  cling  to  it.  Air  ye  sure  you  air  all  right. 
Abe?" 

"Yes;  I'm  all  right."  Abe  demonstrated  his  Tightness  by  sit- 
ting up.  "But  I'm  wondering  what  my  mother'll  say.  You 
know  she  told  me  to  be  keerful  about  the  crick."  He  gazed  at 
the  stream  with  a  troubled  look. 

"I  know  she  did,"  answered  Austin  dolefully.  "I  reckon, 
Abe,  we'd  best  not  say  anything  about  this  here.  Mothers  air 
funny.  They  both  of  'em,  yourn  and  mine,  will  love  us  to  death 
'cause  we  air  all  right  and  didn't  git  drownded;  then  they'll 
give  us  a  whale  of  a  lickin'  for  lettin'  you  fall  in." 

"Do  you  reckon?"  queried  young  Lincoln  fearfully. 

"I  know  it,"  replied  Austin  with  the  conviction  born  of  ex- 
perience. 

"Then  what '11  we  do?  Our  clothes  air  all  wet." 

"Pooh!  that's  easy,"  answered  the  older  lad.  "We'll  strip 
and  hang  our  clothes  up  to  dry.  Air  you  sure  you  air  all  right?" 

"Fit  as  a  fiddle,  Austin." 

So  promising  each  other  never  to  tell  anybody  anything 
about  the  matter  the  two  youngsters  rapidly  undressed,  and 
spread  their  wet  clothes  about  on  the  grass  in  the  June  sun- 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  17 

shine.  After  they  had  played  about  a  little  Austin  turned  to 
Abraham. 

"Say,  Abe,  I've  hearn  tell  that  'twus  an  easy  death  to  drown. 
How  did  it  feel  when  you  was  goin'  down?" 

"I  reckon  it'd  be  all  right  oncet  a  feller  was  full  of  water," 
answered  Abraham  reflectively.  "It  didn't  seem  easy  to  me 
though.  I  never  was  so  scared  in  my  life.  Cricky!  I'm  glad  that 
I  wasn't  drowned  right  here  where  I  was  born!" 

"You  wasn't  born  here,"  contradicted  Austin  hastily.  "I 
don't  know  where  you  was  born,  but  it  wasn't  here.  Why,  I 
remember  when  you  folks  moved  here  and  it  wasn't  more'n 
two  or  three  years  ago.  Don't  you  remember  ever  livin'  at  any 
other  place  than  this?" 

"No;  I  don't  remember  ever  having  lived  anywhere  but  on 
this  farm.  But  I'll  ask  my  mother  about  it." 

"Oh,  well,  you're  only  six,"  said  Austin  with  the  superiority 
that  his  eight  years  gave  him.  "  'Course  you  couldn't  know 
as  much  about  it  as  I  do.  It  couldn't  be  expected." 

The  sun  was  purpling  towards  the  west  when  at  length  the 
boys  dressed,  and  started  for  the  cabin.  They  had  passed  the 
fields  where  over  against  the  dark  green  of  the  forest  the 
bright  green  of  the  Indian  corn  rippled  in  the  wind  when  they 
met  Nancy  Lincoln  coming  to  look  for  them. 

"Where  have  you  been  all  this  time?"  she  cried.  "I  have 
been  oneasy  for  fear  something  had  happened.  You  should  not 
have  stayed  so  long,  Abe.  Your  pa  is  hunting  for  you  now." 

Her  tones  were  chiding,  but  there  was  a  smile  in  her  eyes 
as  they  rested  on  her  son.  He  had  always  been  closer  to  her 
than  the  little  daughter  who  was  his  elder.  Without  waiting  for 
an  answer  she  added:  "Austin's  mother  is  'most  ready  to  go." 


18  LINCOLN 

"Oh,  Mis.  Lincoln,  she  ain't  a  goin'  before  supper,  is  she?" 
exclaimed  Austin  in  such  lugubrious  tones  that  Nancy  laughed. 

"No,  Austin;  And  there's  a  big  Indian  pudding  with  maple 
sugar  for  supper  too.  It's  just  waiting  to  be  eaten.  There  comes 
Tom  now.  They're  here,  Tom,"  she  called  as  Thomas  Lincoln 
came  from  the  woods  towards  them. 

''It's  high  time  you  was  a  showin'  up,  you  young  scalawags," 
exclaimed  Thomas  in  mock  anger  pointing  an  imaginary  gun 
at  them.  "What  do  you  mean  by  makin'  a  man  chase  all  over 
the  woods  fer  ye  on  his  day  of  rest?  I  told  you  they'd  turn  up 
all  right,  Nancy,"  he  added  turning  towards  his  wife.  "They 
air  used  to  the  woods,  and  ain't  apt  to  come  to  harm.  But  come 
in,  and  let's  have  supper.  Get  in,  you  rascals!"  And  squealing 
with  delight  the  lads  scampered  into  the  cabin. 

It  consisted  of  but  one  room,  the  floor  of  which  was  not  laid, 
but  was  of  dirt,  pounded  down.  There  was  no  glass  in  the  win- 
dow, the  opening  was  covered  with  greased  paper  instead ;  and 
there  was  but  one  door.  The  furniture  was  home-made,  save 
for  a  loom  and  a  spinning  wheel.  Thomas  Lincoln  was  a  car- 
penter by  trade,  though  he  was  a  better  hunter  than  either 
farmer  or  carpenter.  This  was  evidenced  by  the  skins  which 
were  everywhere  about  the  room.  They  were  on  the  walls,  on 
the  bed  for  covering,  and  on  the  two  shakedowns  where  the 
children  slept.  There  was  a  crane  in  the  huge  fireplace,  and  a 
bake  kettle ;  and  over  it  great  buckhorns  held  Tom's  rifle  when 
it  was  not  in  use.  On  other  horns  hung  gourds  for  drinking 
cups,  bags  of  seed,  and  clothing.  Along  one  side  of  the  room 
was  a  table  made  from  a  huge  hewn  log  standing  on  four  legs. 
Sarah,  Abraham's  sister,  was  setting  crockery  and  pewter 
upon  it  as  Nancy,  Tom,  and  the  two  lads  entered. 

"Me  and  Mis.  Gollaher  was  a  goin'  to  eat  up  all  the  supper 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  19 

if  you  hadn't  come  soon;  wasn't  we,  Mis.  Gollaher?"  she  cried 
teasingly,  shaking  her  finger  at  the  boys.  She  was  two  years 
older  than  Abraham,  and  looked  very  much  like  him  with  the 
difference  that  whereas  Abraham  had  no  claim  to  good  looks 
the  sister  was  with  justice  termed  a  pretty  girl. 

"That  we  were,"  agreed  Austin's  mother. 

"Well  now  that  we  air  all  here  s'posin'  we  set  up?"  sug- 
gested Thomas.  "I  for  one  am  right  down  hungry." 

The  meal  was  disposed  of  at  length,  Austin  and  his  mother 
had  gone  home,  the  supper  work  was  out  of  the  way,  and  the 
family  sat  down  outside  the  door  to  talk  over  the  events  of 
the  day. 

"Ma,"  spoke  Abraham  abruptly,  "Austin  says  that  I  wasn't 
born  here.  Was  I  ?" 

"Austin's  right,"  spoke  Thomas  Lincoln  before  his  wife 
could  reply;  "though  it  beats  me  how  the  boy  know'd.  You  was 
born  on  the  South  Fork  of  Nolin's  Creek,  two  mile  and  a  half 
south  of  Hodgen's  Mills.1  It  air  twelve  mile  across  Mul- 
draugh's  Hill  from  here." 

"Was  it  like  this  place,  pa?" 

"The  house  was  about  the  same  as  this  one;  no  better,  no 
wuss ;  but  there  was  a  fine  spring  of  water  comin'  outen  a  cleft 
in  a  rock  with  trees  all  around  it.  It  was  a  sort  of  purty  like. 
'Twas  called  Rock  Spring  Farm  on  account  of  the  spring. 
Thar,  on  a  Sunday,  the  twelfth  day  of  February,  1809,  you 
was  born." 

"I  should  like  to  see  it,"  remarked  the  boy  wistfully. 

"Well  you  shall,  sometime,  sonny.  Some  day  when  I  go  to 
Hodgen's  Mills  I'll  take  you  along,  and  we'll  ride  out  to  the 
old  place." 

i  Now  Hodgenville. 


20  LINCOLN 

"Thank  you,  pa,"  said  Abraham  gratefully.  "What  made 
us  move  from  there?" 

"Well,  it  was  a  mighty  discouragin'  piece  of  land  to  farm, 
Abe;  this  here  farm's  a  better  improvement  than  that  was. 
Then  too  there  was  trouble  over  the  title.  This  here  title  busi- 
ness is  a  causin'  a  lot  of  movin'  among  us  settlers,"  he  con- 
cluded moodily.  He  was  even  then  in  difficulties  over  the  title 
to  the  Knob  Creek  place. 

"And  you  were  a  big  baby  too,  Abe,"  broke  in  Nancy's 
soft  voice.  She  spoke  briskly  in  order  to  take  her  husband's 
mind  off  his  troubles.  "You  was  so  large  for  your  age  that 
people  all  around  came  to  see  you.  Remember  what  the  old 
stage  driver  said  when  he  was  a  month  old,  Tom?" 

"He  said,"  chuckled  Tom,  "  'Mis.  Lincoln,  this  here  feller's 
as  big  as  a  yearling  now.  An'  look  at  that  chin!  Why!  he'll 
either  be  Governor,  or  be  hung.  He  was  born  for  one  or 
t'other!'" 

"I  shall  not  be  hung,"  announced  the  small  boy  with  de- 
cision. 

"I  hope  not,  my  son."  Nancy  laid  her  hand  caressingly  on 
his  head,  then  uttered  an  exclamation.  "What  makes  your  hair 
so  damp,  Abe?  Why!  it's  just  as  though  it  had  been  wet." 

The  lad  hung  his  head.  He  had  not  thought  of  his  hair  which 
was  thick  and  heavy.  There  had  not  been  time  for  it  to  dry 
thoroughly. 

"Most  likely  they  was  in  the  crick,"  observed  Tom  dryly. 
"Was  you,  Abe?" 

"I — I  fell  in,"  blurted  out  Abraham.  "I  didn't  go  to  do  it. 
I  was  tryin'  to  coon  across  a  log  to  look  for  partridges  on  the 
other  side  when  I  lost  my  hold,  and  tumbled  in.  Austin  fished 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  21 

me  out  with  a  pole,  and  pounded  and  rolled  me  so's  to  git  the 
water  outen  me.  I  didn't  go  to  do  it.  I — " 

But  Nancy  had  him  in  a  close  embrace.  "Oh,"  she  breathed, 
"if  you  had  been  drowned !" 

"Now,  now,  Nancy,"  remonstrated  her  husband.  "The  boy's 
not  hurt.  Don't  take  on  so.  He's  none  the  wuss  for  the  experi- 
ence. Maybe  it'll  teach  him  not  to  go  nigh  the  crick  when  it's 
high.  Tell  us  about  it,  sonny." 

Abraham  related  the  happening  in  full,  even  to  the  part 
where  the  two  boys  had  made  up  their  minds  not  to  tell  of  the 
matter.  Nancy  held  him  tightly  in  her  arms  as  he  told  the  story. 

"As  though  I  would  whip  you  for  that,"  she  said  when  he 
had  finished  the  tale. 

"Come  here,  sonny,  an'  I'll  tell  you  about  how  nigh  I  come 
to  bein'  killed  when  I  was  your  age,"  said  his  father.  "Let's  see, 
you're  six;  ain't  you?" 

"Yes,  sir."  Abraham  went  to  Thomas  who  picked  him  up, 
set  him  on  his  knee,  and  began  to  stroke  his  dark  head.  Sarah 
left  her  seat  on  the  doorlog,  and  crouched  at  his  feet,  slipping 
her  hand  into  her  brother's  as  she  did  so. 

"Well  it  happened  nigh  to  Bear  Grass  Fort  not  far  from 
whar  Louisville  now  stands.  Father  had  come  from  Rocking- 
ham County,  Virginny,  with  mother  and  us  five  children — 
three  boys  and  two  gals — long  back  in  1782,  to  settle  thar. 
You  see  Dan'l  Boone  had  gone  into  Kaintuck,  and  had  come 
back  with  sech  tales  of  how  rich  the  land  was,  an'  that  the 
woods  was  as  full  of  game  as  an  egg  is  of  meat,  an'  that  thar 
was  so  much  timber  that  it  couldn't  be  cut  down  in  a  hun- 
dred years.  Sech  tales,  that  people  all  over  the  State  of  Vir- 
ginny was  a  packin'  up,  and  goin'  thar.  As  I  said  father  was 


22  LINCOLN 

one  of  'em,  an'  we  went  along  with  a  party  that  ole  Dan'l  his- 
self  was  a  leadin'  down  the  Wilderness  Road,  through  the 
Cumberland  Gap,  and  so  on  into  Kaintuck.  Father  took  up 
land  on  the  Lickin'  River,  nigh  Bear  Grass  Fort;  about  two 
thousand  acres. 

"We  had  been  settled  thar  goin'  onto  four  years  when,  one 
day,  father  and  us  boys  went  into  the  fields  to  do  some  work. 
Thar  was  three  of  us  boys;  Mordecai  who  was  ten  year  old; 
Josiah  who  was  eight ;  and  me — Thomas — who  was  six.  It  was 
nigh  thirty  year  ago,  but  I  remember  it  as  well  as  if  it  was  yis- 
terday." 

Thomas  paused  and  drew  hard  on  his  pipe.  The  little  group 
about  him  was  listening  intently.  The  long  summer  twilight 
deepened  into  dusk.  The  stars  came  out.  Now  and  again  the 
quiet  was  broken  by  the  sharp  whiz  of  insects  darting  here 
and  there  through  the  gloaming.  A  soft  breeze  rustled  the  tree 
tops.  Crickets  chirped  under  the  logs  and  through  the  grass. 
The  frogs  sang  in  the  marshes  of  the  creek.  From  the  forest 
came  the  mournful  hoot  of  an  owl. 

"Well,  as  I  was  sayin',"  Thomas  went  on  presently,  "your 
grandpa  was  clearin'  the  field  an'  I  was  with  him  a  helpin' 
him  all  I  could.  Mordecai  and  Josiah  was  workin'  nigh  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  not  far  off.  I  remember  lookin'  up  at  father 
as  he  worked,  an'  thinkin'  what  a  big  fine  man  he  was.  You 
was  named  for  him,  Abe,  an'  I  hope  that  you'll  be  as  good  a 
man  as  he  was. 

"All  of  a  suddent,  there  come  a  shot  from  somewhere,  and 
father  drapped  dead  right  thar  before  my  very  eyes.  I  was  that 
dazed  that  I  couldn't  do  anything  but  stand  thar  a  lookin' 
at  him,  even  though  the  Injuns  had  riz  up  all  around  us. 
Rut  Mordecai  had  his  wits  about  him.  Shoutin'  to  Josiah  to  go 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  23 

to  the  stockade  for  help,  he  hisself  run  to  the  cabin,  and  got 
father's  rifle.  You  see  mother  an'  the  gals  was  thar  alone.  A 
big  Injun  come,  and  stoopin'  over  me  lifted  me  up,  an'  was 
either  about  to  kill  me,  or  take  me  off  into  the  forest,  when 
thar  come  a  shot  from  the  house,  an'  he  fell  in  a  heap.  Mord 
had  fired  through  a  chink  in  the  walls,  and  the  ball  had  gone 
clean  through  the  Red. 

"He  had  took  a  big  risk  of  shootin'  me  'sted  of  the  Injun 
in  doin'  it,  but  he  aimed  at  an  ornament  on  the  Injun's  breast, 
and  chanct  it.  An'  the  shot  went  straight  to  the  mark." 

Tom  paused  again,  and  was  silent  so  long  and  became  so 
wrapped  in  thought  that  his  pipe  went  out  unheeded.  Abe  be- 
gan to  fidget  on  his  knee. 

"And  what  happened  then,  pa?"  he  asked  when  the  silence 
grew  unbearable.  He  was  to  hear  the  story  many  times  after- 
wards, but  the  suspense  of  a  protracted  wait  was  too  much  to 
ask  a  small  boy  to  endure  in  the  first  telling. 

"Then?"  Tom  came  to  himself  with  a  start.  "Oh,  then  mother 
come  out  a  callin'  me  to  come  to  her.  She  stood  outside  the 
cabin  door  a  holdin'  out  her  arms  to  me,  never  thinkin'  that  the 
Redskins  might  shoot  her  too;  an'  Mordecai  kept  pepperin' 
them  through  the  chinks  in  the  walls.  Then  here  come  Josiah 
on  the  run  from  the  fort  with  a  lot  of  settlers  who  soon 
scattered  the  Injuns.  But  Mord  was  wild  about  'em  after- 
wards. Would  hunt  and  kill  every  savage  he  could." 

Darkness  had  settled  over  the  valley.  With  the  deepening 
shadow  the  fluttering  of  wings  and  chirping  ceased,  and  a 
vague  stillness  spread  over  the  cabin  and  everything  around  it. 
In  the  hush  it  seemed  as  if  anything  might  happen.  The  In- 
dians had  long  since  been  driven  back,  and  there  was  no  longer 
danger  from  them.  But  the  story,  the  darkness,  brought  the 


24  LINCOLN 

fear  that  somewhere  they  might  lurk  in  the  depths  of  the 
forest,  and  swoop  down  upon  them.  Involuntarily  the  children 
drew  closer  to  their  father.  A  whip-poor-will  uttered  its  plain- 
tive notes  suddenly  from  a  near  by  tree,  and  so  startled  Sarah 
that  she  screamed.  Nancy  rose  quickly. 

"See  how  scared  we  air  from  that  story,  Tom,"  she  said. 
"Come  in,  all  of  you.  We  will  seek  comfort  from  God's  word." 

Going  into  the  cabin  she  lighted  the  tallow  dips,  and  taking 
the  Bible  from  its  shelf  read  from  its  promises;  for  this  pio- 
neer woman  could  both  read  and  write,  and  stood  on  a  higher 
intellectual  plane  than  those  around  her.  Then  Thomas — they 
were  both  devout  Baptists — led  in  prayer,  after  which  the 
family  sought  its  repose. 


CHAPTER  TWO 


LIFE    IN    THE   CABIN 


Through  the  long  summer  days  that  followed  Abraham 
waited  patiently  for  his  father  to  take  him  to  see  the  place 
where  he  had  been  born.  He  was  destined,  however,  never  to 
see  it.  All  that  he  ever  knew  of  it  was  what  he  heard  his  father 
and  mother  tell. 

Thomas  Lincoln  was  kept  busy  that  summer.  In  addition 
to  his  farm  work  he  did  occasional  odd  jobs  of  carpenter  work 
for  the  other  settlers,  and  he  had  recently  been  appointed  a 
county  road  surveyor.  He  fished  and  hunted  for  the  family's 
meat  supply;  the  skins  of  the  animals  that  he  brought  down 
with  his  gun  finding  a  ready  market  in  the  towns.  Those  that 
were  not  sold  added  materially  to  the  clothing  of  the  family. 
After  they  were  tanned,  they  were  made  into  shirts,  breeches, 
and  moccasins.  Caps  were  usually  made  from  coonskins, 
though  sometimes  of  opossum.  Besides  all  this,  he  was  much 
at  court. 

Kentucky  was  a  State  of  conflicting  land  titles.  The  old 
Virginia  surveys  did  not  always  join;  they  often  overlapped, 
and  later  surveys  found  their  measurements  wrong.  Taking 
advantage  of  this  state  of  things  large  real  estate  operators, 

25 


26  LINCOLN 

from  other  States,  bought  great  tracts  of  land  which  frequently- 
included  the  holdings  of  settlers  who  had  bought  under  the  old 
surveys.  As  a  consequence,  disputes  over  the  title  and  owner- 
ship of  farms  were  of  common  occurrence.  This  was  the  nature 
of  a  suit  which  had  recently  been  brought  against  Thomas. 
There  were  other  claimants  to  the  Knob  Creek  Farm  who 
sought  to  evict  him  from  a  place  which  he  had  bought  and 
on  which  he  paid  taxes.  So  what  with  one  thing  and  another 
Thomas  was  kept  very  busy  that  summer.  It  was  no  wonder 
that  his  promise  to  his  small  son  to  take  him  to  the  farm  on 
Nolin's  Creek  should  slip  from  his  mind. 

And  Abraham,  child  though  he  was,  was  busy  too.  In  a 
pioneer  household,  children  were  put  to  doing  easy  chores  as 
soon  as  they  were  strong  enough  to  perform  them,  no  pair  of 
hands  being  too  small  to  help.  So  the  six-year-old  boy  kept 
the  wood  box  filled,  gathered  plenty  of  chips  for  the  washing, 
soap  making  and  trying  out  of  fats;  brought  in  the  water, 
helped  in  weeding  the  garden,  and  in  their  season,  picked  the 
wild  fruits  and  berries  which  grew  abundantly  on  the  surround- 
ing bluffs — blackberries,  raspberries,  huckleberries,  wild  plums, 
wild  grapes,  persimmons,  and  crab  apples  which  Nancy  Lin- 
coln dried  and  preserved  in  various  ways  for  winter  use.  Later 
in  the  fall,  there  would  be  hickory-nuts,  walnuts,  butter-nuts, 
and  hazel-nuts  to  be  garnered  and  stored ;  for  the  settlers  took 
advantage  of  these  products  of  the  land  which  were  an  essen- 
tial part  of  the  foodstuffs.  Then,  too,  there  were  edible  roots 
to  be  dug,  and  certain  barks  to  be  stripped  from  the  tree  and 
dried.  All  these  were  tasks  for  the  children.  Abraham  fre- 
quently had  Sarah  to  help  him  in  the  performance  of  them; 
but  more  often  he  was  alone  while  his  sister  was  helping  his 
mother.  In  the  solitude  of  the  woods,  however,  he  found  com- 


LIFE  IN  THE  CABIN  27 

panionship  among  the  birds  and  small  animals  that  pattered 
across  his  path,  developed  self-reliance,  and  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  an  exceptional  fund  of  wood  lore. 

Sometimes  his  father  would  take  him  with  him  fishing;  often 
he  went  alone.  One  summer  afternoon,  on  one  of  these  latter 
occasions,  he  fished  a  deep,  quiet  pool  of  the  creek  for  a  long 
time  before  his  efforts  were  rewarded.  He  had  caught  several 
small  fish  under  the  supervision  of  his  father,  and  this  after- 
noon he  was  delighted  when  he  pulled  in  a  catfish  of  fair  size. 
It  was  the  first  fish  he  had  ever  caught  alone,  and  the  boy  could 
not  wait  to  catch  any  more,  but  started  on  a  run  for  the  house 
to  show  it. 

"There'll  be  enough  for  each  one  of  us  to  have  a  taste,"  he 
thought  gleefully.  "Only  I  want  ma  to  have  the  biggest  piece. 
Cricky;  she'll  be  tickled  to  know  that  I  caught  it  all  by  my- 
self." 

But  coming  down  the  road  he  ran  into  a  man  who  limped, 
and  who  wore  a  soldier's  uniform.  Abe  stopped  abruptly. 

"I'm  sorry  that  I  bumped  into  you,  mister,"  he  said  apolo- 
getically. 

"That's  all  right,  bub,"  responded  the  man  with  a  smile. 
"I  s'pect  I  was  taking  more'n  my  share  of  the  road  any- 
way." 

"Where  air  you  from?"  queried  the  boy.  He  always  ques- 
tioned strangers,  much  to  his  father's  annoyance,  being  curious 
for  information  concerning  the  places  they  had  come  from  and 
those  to  which  they  were  going. 

"I  come  from  Noo  Orleens,"  the  soldier  replied.  "I  have 
been  down  there  with  Old  Hickory  helping  to  lick  the  British." 

"And  did  you  lick  'em?"  asked  the  lad  eagerly. 

"That  we  did.  Licked  'em  to  a  frazzle.  I  reckon  England's 


28  LINCOLN 

found  out  that  when  Ameriky  cries  'Free  Trade  and  Sailors' 
Rights,'  it  means  something." 

"What  does  it  mean?"  asked  Abe. 

"Why,  bub,  it  means  that  this  here  United  States  of  ourn 
can  send  our  merchant  vessels  to  whatever  port  we  please,  and 
that  our  ships  can't  be  searched  and  our  men  carried  off  to 
serve  on  British  ships.  Now  it's  all  over,  and  Old  Hickory  just 
p'intedly  showed  'em  what  righting  was.  'Twas  one  of  their 
crack  gin'rals  too  that  we  beat;  Old  Gin'ral  Pack'n'hum  was." 

"And  is  Old  Hickory  a  crack  gin'ral  too?" 

"You  better  believe  he  is.  Why  say;  he  didn't  have  nuthing 
but  raw  militia  and  them  Creoles  down  there  at  Noo  Orleens, 
and  in  three  weeks  he  had  'em  drilled  so  that  they  could  meet 
them  British  rig'lars.  Them  and  some  Tennessee  sharp  shooters 
was  all  he  had.  Yes,  sir;  Andy  Jackson  is  a  crack  gin'ral  and 
no  mistake." 

"What  makes  you  call  him  Old  Hickory  if  his  name's  Andy 
Jackson?" 

"Well,  when  it  comes  to  standing  anything  he's  always  right 
in  with  the  men.  Puts  up  with  everything  they  put  up  with,  and 
beats  'em  all  a  standing  hardships.  They  call  him  Old  Hick- 
ory because  he's  just  natchully  tough.  And  say;  there  can't 
nobody  beat  him  at  handling  a  rifle,  or  breaking  in  and  riding 
a  wild  hoss." 

"I'd  like  to  see  a  man  like  that,"  mused  Abe  with  all  a 
boy's  admiration  for  daring  and  vigor. 

"Well,  maybe  you  will  some  day.  You're  young,  and  Gin'ral 
Jackson'll  be  sure  to  be  by  here  sometime.  But  I  must  be  gittin' 
along.  The  war's  over,  and  I  want  to  git  home.  I  can  make 
several  miles  before  sundown  if  I  hurry,  and  this  leg  of  mine 
holds   out.    Say;   that's   a   nice   fish   you've   got   there.    Tell 


LIFE  IN  THE  CABIN  29 

me  where  you  got  it.  Maybe  I  can  catch  one  for  my  supper." 

"I  caught  it  in  a  pool  down  the  crick  a  ways,"  answered 
Abe  slowly  for  he  was  eying  his  fish  thoughtfully.  His  father 
and  mother  had  talked  a  great  deal  about  the  soldiers,  and 
had  said  that  they  must  always  be  good  to  them.  P'raps,  p'raps 
he  ought  to  give  this  one  his  fish.  But  this  was  his  first  fish,  and 
he  had  wanted  to  show  it  to  the  family.  But,  too,  this  soldier 
had  fought  and  had  been  wounded.  And  if  he  could  catch  one 
fish  he  could  catch  others.  Quickly  he  took  the  fish  from  the 
pole  and  handed  it  to  the  soldier. 

"You  can  have  this  fish  for  your  supper,"  he  said.  "Any 
way  you  mightn't  be  able  to  catch  one.  They  ain't  biting  a  bit 
well."  Without  waiting  for  the  thanks  of  the  man  he  hurried 
on  to  the  cabin. 

"Ma,"  he  cried  bursting  in  upon  Nancy  as  she  sat  at  her 
spinning  wheel.  Nancy  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  best 
spinner  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  the  thread  she  spun, 
and  the  cloth  she  wove  were  in  great  demand.  "Ma,  did  you 
know  the  war  was  over?" 

"Yes,  Abe;  your  pa  heard  about  it  in  Elizabethtown  some 
time  ago.  Who  you  been  seeing?" 

"Why,  I  was  fishing,  and  I  caught  a  fish,  and  I  was  running 
home  with  it  when  I  ran  right  into  a  soldier  on  the  road.  He 
told  me  all  about  it.  He  fought  with  Old  Hickory  at  Noo  Or- 
leens  and  they  licked  the  British  to  a  frazzle." 

"And  what  did  you  do  with  the  fish,  son?" 

"Why,  why,  I  gave  it  to  him  for  his  supper,"  stammered  the 
boy.  "You  'member  you  told  us  to  be  good  to  the  soldiers  ?  Did 
I  do  right?"  half  fearfully  for  his  mother  was  regarding  him 
with  a  queer  expression  on  her  face. 

Nancy  Lincoln  smiled  at  him  tenderly.  Well  she  knew  what 


30  LINCOLN 

it  cost  a  small  boy  to  give  up  his  first  fish.  The  one  deep  desire 
of  her  heart  was  that  he  should  grow  into  a  good  man. 

"Yes,  quite  right,"  she  told  him.  "I  am  glad  that  you  gave 
it  to  the  soldier.  I  want  you  always  to  be  kind  and  generous, 
not  only  to  soldiers  but  to  every  one  about  you." 

Abe  drew  a  deep  breath.  If  his  mother  approved  he  knew 
that  what  he  had  done  was  right.  She  was  always  right  about 
everything.  He  watched  her  lovingly  as  she  took  up  her  spin- 
ning again.  How  good  she  was  to  him  always.  And  how  cheer- 
ful she  was,  though  she  was  always  working.  Often  she  sang 
about  her  work;  sometimes  quaint  ballads,  at  others,  hymns. 
Frequently  she  quoted  passages  of  Scripture,  or  recited  one 
of  the  Psalms.  Half  unconsciously  he  would  repeat  the  words 
after  her.  To  the  day  of  his  death  Abe  could  recite  the  Psalms 
and  quote  long  extracts  from  the  Bible  learned  thus  from  his 
mother.  The  summer  passed,  a  busy  one  for  every  member  of 
the  family. 

With  the  opening  of  winter  Nancy  insisted  that  the  chil- 
dren should  go  to  school.  Tom  demurred.  He  himself  had  got- 
ten along  without  schooling,  and  he  didn't  see  any  sense  in  it. 
In  fact,  all  the  schooling  he  had  ever  had  was  what  his  wife 
had  given  him.  Nancy  had  taught  him  to  read  so  that  he  could 
spell  his  way  through  the  simplest  sentences  of  the  Bible,  and 
to  write  his  name  bunglingly.  To  Tom's  notion  it  was  all  a 
waste  of  time.  He  belonged  to  the  pioneers  who  had  little  need 
of  books.  They  learned  from  the  great  book  of  Nature.  Hardy, 
sturdy  men  were  they  who  cleared  the  way  for  civilization, 
fighting  with  such  odds  as  few  men  have  met  and  conquered. 
So  now  Tom  spoke  according  to  his  light: 

"All  them  children  need,  Nancy,  is  to  know  how  to  work. 
Abe  in  pertic'ler  don't  want  any  larnin'.  What  he  wants  to 


LIFE  IN  THE  CABIN  31 

know  is  how  to  use  an  axe  and  a  plow ;  to  larn  how  to  hunt  and 
to  fish.  Then  when  he  gits  older  I'll  make  a  carpenter  outen 
him." 

"But  I  want  him  to  have  some  learning,  Tom,"  protested  his 
wife.  "I  want  him  to  know  something  more  than  hard  work. 
I  want  him  to  go  ahead  of  us.  Be  something  more  than  we  have 
been." 

"Lawsy,  Nancy,  you  had  some  larnin'  yourself,  and  what  has 
it  brung  you?  You  have  to  work  just  as  hard  as  the  women 
who  don't  know  a  pot  hook  from  a  turkey  track.  An'  you 
didn't  marry  any  better  than  they  did." 

"Now,  Tom,  you  know  I  wouldn't  want  any  different  man 
from  you.  You  air  a  good  husband,  loving  and  tender;  I 
wouldn't  want  any  other  man.  But  I  do  want  that  our  boy, 
and  girl  too,  should  have  something  more  than  hard  work." 

"Have  it  your  own  way,  Nancy,"  responded  Tom  much  mol- 
lified. "But  it's  plumb  downright  foolishness  and  a  waste  of 
money  to  my  way  of  thinkin'." 

So  Nancy  had  her  desire  and  the  boy  and  girl  went  to 
school.  There  were  no  free  schools  in  Kentucky  at  this  time. 
Such  schools  as  there  were,  the  A,  B,  C  schools,  were  con- 
ducted on  a  subscription  basis.  If  there  were  few  pupils  there 
was  little  to  make  it  profitable  for  the  teacher,  and  not  much 
gain  to  the  pupils.  Men  who  were  learned  did  not  care  to  under- 
take teaching  for  the  little  there  was  in  it.  As  a  consequence, 
the  school  sessions  were  infrequent  and  not  of  long  duration. 
There  had  been  one  held  the  winter  before,  by  Mr.  Zachariah 
Riney,  which  Abe  and  Sarah  attended.  It  had  lasted  but  a  few 
weeks.  The  present  one  was  to  be  conducted  by  Mr.  Caleb 
Hazel. 

The  children  started  off  the  first  day  without  demur.  They 


32  LINCOLN 

were  accustomed  to  yielding  obedience  without  question;  but 
Abe  voiced  a  secret  reluctance  to  his  sister  as  they  walked  two 
miles  up  the  road  to  the  schoolhouse. 

"I  won't  mind  going  to  school  a  bit,  Sally,"  he  said,  "if 
the  new  teacher  don't  teach  with  a  birch  in  his  hand,  like  old 
Zach  Riney  did.  Bless'd  if  he  didn't  go  round  a  tappin'  us 
with  that  switch  all  the  time." 

"All  you've  got  to  do,  Abe,  is  to  study  as  loud  as  you  can," 
replied  his  sister.  "How  can  teacher  know  whether  you  air 
studying  or  not  if  he  can't  hear  you?  And  you  shouldn't  say 
'Old  Zach  Riney.'  You  should  say  Mister  Riney." 

"All  the  boys  say  it,"  answered  Abe.  "An'  I'll  study  as  loud 
as  if  I  was  helpin'  pa  call  the  hogs,  if  it  will  save  a  lickin'." 

The  schoolhouse  was  a  little  log  room  about  fifteen  feet 
square,  with  a  fireplace  on  one  side.  The  floor  was  of  dirt, 
pounded  down.  There  were  no  windows,  and  but  one  door.  The 
children  were  required  to  study  out  loud,  for  only  in  this  way 
could  the  teacher  know  that  they  were  getting  their  lessons. 
It  was  a  method  by  which  the  children  were  at  least  kept  busy. 
To  small  Abe's  consternation  Mr.  Hazel  was  provided  with  a 
hickory  stick  with  which  he  moved  about  among  the  pupils 
administering  frequent  punishment  to  those  pupils  who  did 
not  study  loud  enough  for  him  to  know  that  they  were  studious. 
"Lickin'  and  larnin'  "  were  synonymous  in  the  minds  of  the 
teachers  of  the  day.  The  habits  of  studying  aloud  acquired  by 
Abe  in  these  "Blab  schools,"  as  they  were  called,  remained 
with  him  all  his  life.  He  read  aloud  and  couldn't  read  other- 
wise. The  books  were  very  few;  Dillworth's  Speller  being  the 
principal  one  in  use.  In  spite  of  this  fact,  both  Abe  and  Sarah 
learned  to  read,  to  write  their  names,  and  to  make  numbers. 


Often  Travellers  Stopped  for  the  Night  and  There  Followed 
an  Evening  of  Talk 


LIFE  IN  THE  CABIN  33 

There  were  few  settlers,  and  not  all  the  children  of  the  neigh- 
borhood attended  school.  Consequently  it  lasted  but  a  short 
time.  But  among  her  other  duties  Nancy  Lincoln  found  time 
to  hear  their  lessons  so  that  they  should  not  forget  what  they 
had  learned;  using  her  one  book — the  Bible — as  a  textbook. 
And  Nancy  had  many  duties.  She  carded,  spun  and  wove  the 
wool  from  the  sheep,  when  Thomas  Lincoln  had  any;  dressed 
the  skins  of  the  animals  brought  down  by  his  rifle;  made  his 
clothing,  her  own,  and  the  children's;  cooked,  washed,  ironed, 
and  milked  the  cows.  But  always  when  the  day's  work  was 
done  she  gathered  the  family  around  her  and  read  from  the 
Bible:  stories  of  Abraham,  Moses,  and  David  and  the  Christ 
Child. 

Often  travellers  stopped  for  the  night,  for  the  Louisville 
and  Nashville  Pike  had  much  travel,  and  there  would  follow 
an  evening  of  talk  and  stories.  Abe  liked  such  evenings. 
Crouched  down  in  the  "flue,"  or  leaning  against  his  father's 
knee,  he  would  listen  attentively,  often  asking  questions.  There 
would  be  the  discussion  of  public  affairs,  for  frequently  there 
were  politicians  passing.  A  wide  range  of  topics  was  discussed 
before  the  wide-awake  boy  who  pondered  and  puzzled  over 
what  he  heard.  Some  part  of  it  all  took  root  in  his  subconscious- 
ness, and  lay  smouldering. 

Meantime,  Abe  passed  his  seventh  birthday.  In  the  follow- 
ing spring  his  father  took  him  with  him  into  the  fields  to  help 
with  the  planting.  He  learned  the  art  of  corn-dropping,  and 
was  instructed  to  remember  to  drop  two  pumpkin  seeds  into 
every  other  hill  of  corn.  The  main  crop  was  corn,  but  Thomas 
planted  also  some  beans,  a  few  potatoes,  and  some  onions. 

But  amid  all  the  planting  and  work  Tom  Lincoln  was  un- 


34  LINCOLN 

easy.  Despite  the  fact  that  his  claim  to  the  farm  had  been  sus- 
tained by  the  Court,  he  was  not  sure  what  the  final  outcome 
would  be.  The  settlers  were  many  of  them  uncertain  as  to  their 
titles,  and  there  was  much  talk  concerning  the  state  of  things. 
Even  Daniel  Boone,  who  had  led  the  vanguard  of  civilization 
into  the  Kentucky  wilderness,  had  been  bereft  of  his  lands,  and 
had  not  one  acre  left  to  his  name.  What  had  happened  to  him 
was  happening  to  other  settlers  also.  There  was  no  guarantee 
that  it  might  not  happen  to  Tom  as  well.  So  he  was  silent 
and  distraught,  brooding  over  the  matter. 

The  climax  came  one  Sunday  morning  in  the  spring.  As 
has  been  said,  the  farm  consisted  of  three  fields,  the  largest 
of  which  contained  seven  acres.  On  Saturday  afternoon 
Thomas  had  finished  planting  the  corn  in  the  big  field  while 
Abe  dropped  the  pumpkin  seed,  two  seeds  every  other  hill  and 
every  other  row. 

"Thar  now,  Abe,"  Thomas  remarked  with  satisfaction,  "I 
reckon  we  can  enjoy  our  Sunday's  rest  with  a  clear  conscience. 
Thar's  only  the  two  small  fields  left  to  plant,  and  then  our 
work  will  be  over  for  a  spell." 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Abe.  His  muscles  ached,  and  his  body 
was  full  of  mortal  weariness;  but  he  was  seven  years  old,  and 
therefore  too  big  to  complain. 

Both  father  and  son  went  to  bed  with  a  sense  of  work  well 
done.  In  the  morning  they  woke  to  find  that  a  big  rain  was 
falling  in  the  hills.  It  did  not  rain  a  drop  in  the  valley,  but  the 
water  came  down  in  torrents  through  the  gorges,  and  spread 
over  the  farm,  washing  ground,  corn,  pumpkin  seed  and  all  off 
the  field. 

Thomas  watched  the  flood  in  its  work  of  ruin  in  silence. 
Nancy  came,  and  laid  her  hand  tenderly  on  his  shoulder. 


LIFE  IN  THE  CABIN  35 

"Never  mind,  Tom,"  she  said.  "There  will  be  some  way 
provided  to  make  up  the  loss.  And  the  other  fields  are  left." 

"The  way  is  provided,"  exclaimed  Thomas  bringing  his  right 
fist  down  into  the  palm  of  his  left  hand  emphatically.  "This 
here  settles  the  matter!  I'm  goin'  to  move  to  Indianny." 


CHAPTER  THREE 

THE   MOVE 

From  this  time  forth  Thomas's  moodiness  was  gone.  The 
more  he  dwelt  upon  the  idea  of  moving  to  Indiana  the  more  en- 
thusiastic he  became. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Nancy,"  he  said  one  day,  "I'll  make  this 
a  big  ven'ter,  the  biggest  of  my  life.  I'll  git  together  all  the 
produce  I  can,  sell  the  farm,  build  a  boat,  and  float  down  the 
Rolling  Fork  to  the  Salt  River  and  on  into  the  Ohio,  trading 
as  I  go.  When  I  git  to  Indianny  I'll  locate,  and  then  come 
back  for  you  and  the  children.  What  do  you  say?" 

Nancy  sighed.  They  had  been  married  but  ten  years,  and 
had  already  lived  on  four  places,  all  in  Hardin  County.  When 
they  were  first  married  Thomas  had  taken  her  to  a  cabin  in 
Elizabethtown  where  Sarah  had  been  born.  When  she  was  a 
little  more  than  a  year  old  they  had  moved  to  a  farm  near 
Buffalo;  "The  Plumb  Orchard  Cabin,"  it  had  been  called,  be- 
cause it  was  in  a  grove  of  wild  crab  apples.  Here  they  had 
stayed  but  a  few  months  when  they  had  removed  to  the  Rock 
Spring  Farm,  on  Nolin  Creek,  where  a  short  time  later  Abra- 
ham was  born.  When  the  boy  was  four  years  old  they  had 
moved  to  Knob  Creek  where  they  had  been  three  years.  And 
now  another  move !  It  was  no  wonder  she  sighed. 

The  Knob  Creek  Farm  was  fertile,  and  was  a  good  farm 
in  many  respects.  Save  only  in  the  matter  of  title — which  might 

36 


THE  MOVE  37 

in  the  final  settlement  be  decided  against  him — she  did  not  be- 
lieve they  would  be  bettered  by  moving.  It  would  mean  leaving 
friends  and  relatives, — both  Thomas  and  Nancy  had  a  number 
of  relations  scattered  over  Hardin  County, — to  go  among 
strangers.  But  Nancy  had  learned  a  wife's  lesson  of  yielding 
her  own  judgment  to  that  of  her  husband.  If  her  man  thought 
he  could  do  better  by  leaving  the  State,  why,  she  would  not 
oppose  him,  but  help  him  all  she  could. 

So  she  answered  gently:  "Well,  Tom,  if  you  think  it  will 
better  us  we'll  make  the  move." 

"I  know  'twill,  Nancy.  'Sides,  there's  gittin'  to  be  too  many 
slave  holders  in  Hardin  County.  Indianny  is  a  free  State,  and 
a  poor  man'll  stand  a  better  show  of  gittin'  on." 
"Has  it  come  into  the  Union  yet,  Tom?" 
"No;  but  there's  talk  of  its  being  admitted  soon." 
So  the  family  began  making  its  preparations  for  the  move. 
Nancy  wove  an  extra  supply  of  cloth,  Tom  collected  as  many 
skins  as  possible,  for  the  expedition  was  to  be  a  trading  as  well 
as  a  prospecting  one,  and  the  children  undertook  additional 
tasks.  Sarah  learned  to  milk  that  her  mother  might  have  more 
time  for  the  weaving,  while  seven-year-old  Abe  attended  to  all 
the  weeding  of  the  garden,  and  learned  to  cultivate  corn  by 
riding  the  horse  between  the  furrows. 

In  his  spare  time  Tom  cut  timbers  which  were  near  at  hand, 
and  hewed  the  logs  for  the  boat.  He  had  his  own  ideas  of  how 
such  a  boat  should  be  built.  The  majority  of  trading  boats  were 
broad,  flat-bottomed  barges,  called  Kentucky  Arks.  Thomas 
believed  that  a  boat  should  be  built  high  and  narrow  for  the 
sake  of  speed.  His  neighbors  laughed  at  the  idea,  but  he  stuck 
to  his  notion.  At  last  all  was  in  readiness,  and  the  family  stood 
on  the  bank,  early  one  morning,  to  speed  Tom  on  his  journey. 


38  LINCOLN 

"Do  you  reckon  you'll  be  gone  long,  Tom?"  asked  Nancy 
wistfully. 

"Not  a  mite  longer  than  I  can  help,  Nancy,"  answered  he. 
"The  most  of  the  time  will  be  took  in  sellin'  the  cargo  along 
shore.  That  done  I'll  make  a  location,  and  come  back  a  kala- 
hootin'.  You  won't  be  afraid  here  with  the  children?" 

"No,  Tom,"  said  his  wife  quietly.  She  did  not  know  what 
fear  was.  "But  I  shall  be  anxious  about  you." 

"Shucks,  honey!  never  you  mind  about  me.  I'll  be  as  fit  as 
a  fiddle  all  the  time  I'm  gone.  Jest  you  and  the  children  keep 
well,  and  be  ready  to  start  when  I  come  back.  Good-bye!"  He 
kissed  them  all,  lifted  Abe  high  in  the  air,  whispering  as  he  put 
him  back  on  the  ground:  "You  air  the  only  man  left  on  the 
place,  sonny.  Take  good  keer  of  your  mother  and  sister." 

"I  will,"  promised  the  boy  earnestly. 

And  then  began  the  weary  weeks  of  waiting  for  the  little 
family.  Weeks  fraught  with  keenest  anxiety  to  the  waiting 
wife ;  filled  with  eager  anticipation  for  the  children.  There  was 
more  leisure  at  the  cabin  now,  and  Nancy  improved  it  by  keep- 
ing the  boy  and  girl  at  their  lessons,  and  finishing  the  few 
preparations  left  to  be  made  for  the  journey.  And  then  one 
day  Thomas  suddenly  walked  in.  He  had  returned  by  land  and 
on  foot.  He  threw  down  several  squirrels  as  he  entered. 

"I  reckon  you  all  ain't  had  nothin'  but  'hog  and  hominy' 
since  I've  been  gone,"  he  drawled  quite  as  though  he  had  been 
away  but  a  day  or  two.  "That'll  be  a  change." 

"And  how  did  you  make  out  with  the  cargo,  Tom?"  asked 
Nancy  after  the  greetings  were  over. 

Tom  hesitated.  "Well,  the  truth  is  I  had  an  accident.  That 
boat  of  mine  went  all  right  all  the  way  down  Salt  River.  Noth- 
in' couldn't  have  been  purtier  than  the  way  she  floated.  But 


THE  MOVE  39 

when  we  turned  into  the  Ohio,  bless'd  if  an  eddy  didn't  twist 
her  so  that  she  upsot,  and  the  hull  cargo  went  to  the  bottom." 

"Oh,  Tom!" 

"Never  mind,  honey,  I  got  the  most  of  it  back.  You  see 
the  river  had  overflowed,  and  the  water  soon  went  down.  I 
jest  natchully  waited  till  it  did,  then  I  fished  up  my  tools,  my 
rifle,  and  most  of  the  cargo;  got  the  boat  righted,  an'  went  on 
down  to  Thompson's  Ferry  in  Perry  County,  Indianny,  where 
I  left  the  goods  with  a  man  named  Posey." 

"And  did  you  fall  in  too,  Pa?"  queried  Abe. 

"Yes,  sonny;  but  I  swum  out.  Then  I  struck  off  into  the 
wilderness,  lookin'  for  a  location.  You  'member  Thomas  Car- 
ter who  moved  from  here?  Well,  I  asked  the  way  to  his  place, 
and  found  that  he  had  located  on  Pigeon  Creek,  so  I  made  for 
thar.  Of  course  I  had  to  make  this  part  of  the  trip  afoot." 

"And  did  you  locate,  Tom?"  asked  Nancy  quickly  as  Tom 
paused.  The  children  were  listening  breathlessly. 

"Yep.  'Bout  sixteen  miles  back  from  the  Ohio:  and  say! 
you'll  have  to  look  fur  to  find  a  purtier  spot.  I  took  up  claim 
of  a  quarter  section  of  land  on  Little  Pigeon  Creek  in  Perry 
County.1  Notched  some  trees,  cleared  away  the  brush,  an'  piled 
it  up,  done  everything  the  Land  Laws  of  the  Government  re- 
quire; shouldered  my  axe,  an'  come  back  a  kilter,  as  I  said 
I'd  do.  An'  now  I'm  ready  to  clear  outen  here  as  soon  as  we 
can." 

"We  can  be  ready  in  a  few  days,  Tom,"  Nancy  assured  him. 

But  it  was  not  in  Tom's  nature  to  hurry;  so  some  little  time 
elapsed  before  the  departure  took  place.  There  was  a  round 
of  visits  from  relatives  when  the  news  went  forth  that  the 
family  was  to  leave  the  State,  and  Nancy  herself  had  a  sad 

i  Later  divided  into  Spencer  County. 


40  LINCOLN 

visit  to  make.  Taking  Sarah  and  Abraham  with  her,  she  went 
to  the  graveyard  at  Hodgenville,  where  there  was  a  small 
green  mound  over  which  she  shed  many  tears.  It  was  the  grave 
of  her  third  child,  a  boy  two  years  younger  than  Abraham, 
whom  she  had  named  Thomas.  Had  he  lived  they  would  have 
had  a  little  brother,  five  years  old,  to  go  with  them  to  Indiana, 
she  told  them.  And  the  mother's  tears  fell  fast  as  at  length  she 
turned  away,  and  left  forever  the  little  grave  in  its  unmarked 
desolation. 

The  day  for  departure  came  at  last,  and  the  route  to  be 
travelled  had  been  determined  beforehand.  It  would  not  be  a 
long  journey.  Could  they  have  gone  straight  across  the  coun- 
try the  distance  would  have  been  about  fifty  miles.  As  they 
were  obliged  to  travel  it,  through  woods  with  detours  for  hills 
and  fords,  it  would  be  double  that  distance.  What  was  left 
of  the  household  goods  was  packed  into  bundles  and  bags,  and 
loaded  on  two  horses.  Nancy  with  Sarah  behind  her  mounted 
one  horse;  Tom  and  Abe  climbed  on  the  other,  and  they  were 
off. 

Whenever  a  day's  journey  was  ended  the  horses  would  be 
unpacked,  and  turned  loose  to  graze  the  grass  which  grew 
luxuriantly  everywhere.  Thomas  and  Abe  would  gather  wood 
and  kindle  a  fire;  then  Nancy  and  Sally  would  cook  the  sup- 
per. Most  often  they  had  game  of  some  sort  for  the  forest 
abounded  in  wild  creatures  suitable  for  eating;  but  at  times 
it  would  be  "hog  and  hominy."  Supper  over  they  would  gather 
about  the  fire  and  Tom,  in  his  element  now,  would  tell  them 
stories  of  wild  animals,  of  Daniel  Boone,  and  of  other  great 
trappers  and  hunters;  stories  well  known  throughout  the 
State.  He  told  them  too  how  Kentucky,  because  of  the  endless 
struggles  between  the  warring  tribes  of  Red  men  for  the  pos- 


THE  MOVE  41 

session  of  its  hunting  grounds,  had  always  been  called  the 
"dark  and  bloody"  ground.  And  none  of  them  dreamed  that 
it  was  yet  to  be  the  scene  of  still  bloodier  battles,  in  a  great 
conflict  between  North  and  South,  in  which  the  small  boy 
listening  so  attentively  was  to  have  the  leading  part. 

Story-telling  over,  a  bed  of  boughs  would  be  spread,  fur 
skins  thrown  over  them,  and  they  would  be  lulled  to  sleep  by 
the  music  of  falling  waters,  or  of  leaves  rustling  in  the  wind. 
In  this  manner  they  went  through  the  woods  until  after  a 
few  days  they  came  to  the  Kentucky  side  of  the  ferry  which 
crossed  the  Ohio  from  Anderson's  Creek. 

"Thar's  Indianny  at  last,"  cried  Tom.  "Now  we'll  git  across, 
and  stay  for  the  night  with  Posey,  where  I  left  my  truck,  and 
tomorrer  we'll  strike  out  for  the  place.  What  air  you  lookin' 
at,  Abe?" 

"I'm  lookin'  at  the  water,  pa,  and  a  wonderin'  where  it  all 
come  from,"  the  boy  told  him,  his  eyes  wide.  "I  reckon  that's 
about  the  biggest  river  in  the  world;  ain't  it?" 

"Shucks!  that  ain't  a  patchin'  to  the  Mississippi,  sonny. 
Now  thar's  a  river  as  is  a  river.  This  here  river  pours  into  it, 
and  a  passel  of  others  jest  as  big  as  this  one.  As  to  where  all 
this  water  comes  from,  why  there's  two  rivers  jine  up  at  Pitts- 
burgh to  make  this  here  Ohio.  And  then  a  lot  of  it  comes  from 
the  mountains.  Thar  comes  the  ferry  now." 

A  large,  flat-bottomed  boat  was  paddled  slowly  across  the 
swift  and  muddy  Ohio  in  answer  to  Tom's  hail.  It  looked  a 
great  deal  like  the  craft  Tom  had  built  at  the  mouth  of  Knob's 
Creek,  and  the  family  embarked  upon  it  with  some  trepidation. 
The  passage  was  made  in  safety,  however,  and  then  Tom  led 
the  way  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Posey,  where  he  had  left  his 
goods,  and  where  they  passed  the  night. 


42  LINCOLN 

The  next  morning  Thomas  hired  a  lumber  wagon,  loaded 
the  packs  of  their  horses  and  the  stuff  he  had  left  with  Posey 
into  it,  and  started  for  the  land  he  had  staked  off  in  the  heart 
of  the  virgin  forest.  It  lay  sixteen  miles  northwest  of  the 
ferry,  but  the  way  thither  was  through  an  unbroken  country, 
and  was  beset  with  difficulties.  With  the  resolution  of  pioneers, 
however,  they  plunged  into  the  trackless  forest,  and  began  the 
journey.  There  were  no  roads,  and  they  tried  to  follow  the 
trail  Tom  had  blazed  upon  his  previous  trip.  It  was  a  difficult 
thing  to  do,  for  the  trail  was  very  narrow.  There  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  cut  down  the  brush  and  trees  to  make  a  road  for 
the  wagon.  By  the  time  the  chosen  site  was  reached  Thomas 
had  left  behind  him  a  passable  road  to  the  ferry;  which  was  just 
as  well  as  it  would  be  their  future  market  place.  It  was  hard 
work,  but  it  was  only  a  foretaste  of  what  was  to  come. 

They  stopped  at  last  on  a  beautiful,  densely  wooded  knoll 
on  the  land  which  Thomas  had  selected  as  a  home.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  seen  but  trees;  trees  of  great  size  for  it  was  a 
forest  primeval,  deep  and  shadowy. 

Its  shadows  were  reflected  in  Nancy's  eyes,  and  her  heart 
was  heavy.  In  the  midst  of  a  virgin  forest  and  miles  from  a 
school!  How  were  the  children  to  receive  the  learning  she 
wished  them  to  have?  True,  she  herself  had  some  knowledge; 
she  had  read  a  few,  very  few,  books;  had  seen  some  news- 
papers, but  such  learning  as  she  possessed  would  not  carry 
them  far.  She  knew  her  limitations.  Abraham  saw  that  she  was 
sad  about  something,  and  going  to  her  he  put  his  arm  about 
her. 

"Cricky,  ma,"  he  said  with  one  of  his  sunshiny  smiles, 
"there'll  be  plenty  of  wood;  won't  there?" 


CHAPTER  FOUR 


THE    NEW    HOME 


As  Thomas  had  said,  one  would  have  to  go  far  to  find  a  pret- 
tier spot  than  the  one  he  had  selected  as  a  site  for  a  home;  but 
it  was  a  mile  distant  from  the  spring  which  is  a  long  way  to 
carry  water.  It  was  a  wild  region  with  many  bears  and  other 
animals,  and  camping  in  the  open  had  its  dangers.  Also  the 
nights  were  growing  cold,  and  the  rains  and  storms  of  winter 
would  soon  be  upon  them.  The  first  great  need  of  the  family 
was  a  shelter  that  would  serve  as  a  protection  both  from  the 
weather  and  the  wild  animals.  It  had  to  be  one  that  could  be 
erected  quickly;  so  Thomas  decided  upon  a  pole-shelter,  or 
"Hunter's-camp,"  sometimes  termed  a  "Half-faced  Camp." 
As  he  started  to  cut  down  some  trees  for  this  purpose,  he 
called  Abraham  to  him,  and  putting  an  axe  into  his  hands, 
said: 

"You  air  big  and  strong  for  your  age,  sonny.  Don't  you 
reckon  you  could  help  me  with  this  choppin'?" 

"Yes,  pa,"  answered  the  boy  sturdily. 

Clasping  the  axe  handle  in  a  firm  grip  he  started  in  to  work. 
There  were  quantities  of  rank  undergrowth  to  be  cleared  out, 
branches  to  be  trimmed  off  the  trees  that  his  father  chopped 


43 


44  LINCOLN 

down,  and  small  saplings  that  he  could  cut.  It  was  hard  work : 
too  hard  for  so  young  a  lad,  but  the  need  was  urgent. 

At  length  a  sufficient  number  of  logs  were  ready  for  the 
structure,  and  Nancy  and  Sarah  were  called  in  to  help  with 
the  placing.  Thomas  had  selected  a  southern  slope  for  the  site 
where  two  straight  trees  stood  about  fourteen  feet  apart  east 
and  west.  He  trimmed  and  topped  these  so  that  they  would 
serve  as  corner  posts  for  the  open  front  of  the  shelter.  The 
camp  was  to  be  built  on  three  sides  with  the  fourth  side  open 
to  the  south.  The  logs,  about  fourteen  feet  in  length,  were  fas- 
tened with  wooden  pins  to  the  posts  and  laid  in  log-cabin 
fashion  until  the  walls  reached  the  proper  height.  These  formed 
the  framework.  Against  these  a  number  of  other  poles  were 
leaned  and  fastened,  and  a  roof  of  small  poles  woven  with 
branches  and  thatched  with  brush  and  dry  leaves  and  grass  was 
put  over  all.  The  openings  between  the  logs  were  then  chinked 
with  mud.  In  front  of  the  open  side  a  fireplace  was  built  of 
tempered  clay  and  sticks.  It  was  big  and  solid,  for  its  fire 
must  be  kept  going  day  and  night.  Its  flame  must  never  be 
allowed  to  die  out,  not  only  for  the  comfort  of  the  family, 
but  also  for  the  protection  it  gave  from  wild  animals.  When 
the  earth  inclosed  by  its  three  sides  had  been  pounded  hard 
for  a  floor  Tom  turned  to  Nancy  with, 

"Thar  it  is,  Nancy,  and  I  reckon  it  will  do  all  right  for  the 
winter.  We'll  be  as  snug  as  a  b'ar  in  a  tree." 

"I  reckon  so  too,  Tom,"  replied  Nancy. 

It  was  a  miserable  shelter  at  best,  but  it  would  answer  for 
the  time  being.  The  moving  was  easy  of  accomplishment. 
Nancy  had  not  realized  how  few  things  were  left  of  the  house 
furnishings  until  she  came  to  put  them  in  order.  Boughs  and 
leaves  with  blankets  and  skins  spread  over  them  must  serve  as 


THE  NEW  HOME  45 

beds,  and  stools  were  fashioned  from  short  lengths  of  logs. 
Tom  promised  to  make  some  furniture  as  soon  as  he  had  time. 

The  completion  of  the  shelter,  however,  did  not  end  Abra- 
ham's use  of  the  axe.  There  was  the  fire  to  be  kept  going,  and 
there  was  also  a  clearing  to  be  made  ready  for  the  planting 
in  the  Spring.  It  meant  no  small  amount  of  work  for  the  boy, 
and  day  after  day  his  axe  rang  with  his  father's  through  the 
woods,  and  his  strokes  grew  surer  with  each  day's  labor. 

With  the  coming  of  Spring  the  hardships  and  privations 
were  forgotten.  In  March,  when  the  sap  began  to  run,  Tom 
tapped  some  maple  trees.  Then  came  the  sugaring,  the  warm 
days  and  freezing  nights  when  the  earth  stirs  in  her  sleep  and 
the  taps  drip  from  sunrise  to  sunset.  Nancy  and  Sarah  boiled 
and  grained  as  Tom  and  Abe  brought  the  sap,  and  kept  the 
fire  going  under  the  big  iron  kettle.  The  days  flew  by  so  quickly 
that  the  swelling  buds  of  the  trees  had  burst  into  flower  before 
they  were  aware;  and  white  dogwood,  crab  apple  and  red  bud 
made  the  forest  a  thing  of  beauty.  The  birds  were  on  the  wing, 
flocks  of  them;  and  countless  wild  flowers  made  the  banks  of 
the  streams  look  like  gardens.  Life  was  indeed  a  busy  thing 
for  the  family,  but  it  was  amid  a  world  of  marvels. 

There  had  been  enough  of  land  cleared  around  the  cabin  for 
a  patch  of  corn  and  potatoes  to  be  planted,  and  a  smaller  piece 
for  garden  truck.  Tom  aimed  to  raise  only  enough  corn  to 
keep  the  meal  box  supplied.  It  hardly  paid  to  raise  more,  for 
corn  brought  little  or  nothing,  so  far  was  the  farm  from  mar- 
ket. Abe  dropped  the  seed,  being  careful  to  drop  the  yellow 
grains  of  corn  in  the  light  of  the  moon;  while  he  planted  the 
potatoes  in  the  dark  of  the  moon.  The  superstition  of  the 
time  decreed  that  they  must  be  so  planted,  else  there  would 
be  no  crops. 


46  LINCOLN 

And  yet,  in  spite  of  work  and  the  interest  the  new  country 
excited,  that  first  year  in  the  wilderness  was  a  lonesome  one 
for  the  boy.  His  sister  was  with  him  at  times  to  share  in  his 
tasks  and  games,  but  for  the  most  part  Sarah  was  learning  to 
help  her  mother  in  her  daily  duties  even  as  her  brother  was 
following  the  footsteps  of  their  father.  There  were  no  near 
neighbors,  no  lads  to  play  with ;  so  he  was  much  alone. 

But  he  was  growing.  Not  only  physically  but  mentally. 
There  came  to  him  a  sense  of  power  in  being  able  to  do  things. 
Along  with  toughened  muscles  the  spirit  of  the  woods  entered 
into  him.  The  solemn  hush  of  the  vast  wilderness  had  its  voices 
of  bird,  and  insect,  wind,  rain,  and  storm.  Each  season  had  its 
own  forms,  and  movements,  and  colorings.  He  watched  the 
changes  of  Nature  with  ever-increasing  interest.  Uncon- 
sciously he  was  being  moulded  by  the  solitary  days,  the  monot- 
onous weeks,  and  the  lonely,  silent  forest. 

Part  of  the  logs  for  the  new  home  had  been  cut  in  the  winter, 
as  Thomas  had  found  time  to  do  them;  so  as  soon  as  the  sow- 
ing and  planting  were  over,  he  began  to  build  his  cabin.  With 
such  help  as  he  could  get  the  logs  were  rolled  and  hoisted  into 
their  places.  The  cabin  was  large  for  the  time,  being  eighteen 
feet  square,  and  the  hewn  logs  had  the  bark  left  on  them.  It 
stood  about  forty  feet  from  the  camp  on  the  knoll.  There  was 
neither  a  floor,  nor  a  window,  nor  boards  for  a  door.  It  had 
been  Tom's  intention  to  lay  a  floor,  but  time  pressed;  so  he 
contented  himself  with  pounding  the  dirt  hard,  as  he  had  done 
in  the  half-faced  camp.  The  structure  was  finished  with  a  huge 
chimney,  and  a  low  attic  reached  by  means  of  pegs  driven 
into  the  logs  in  one  corner.  This  was  to  be  Abe's  bedroom. 

There  had  been  but  eight  families  scattered  over  Pigeon 
Creek  Valley  when  Thomas  Lincoln  moved  into  it,  but  in  the 


THE  NEW  HOME  47 

Spring  of  1817  Indiana  became  a  State,  and  settlers  came 
pouring  in.  In  the  late  Summer  came  Nancy's  aunt,  Mrs. 
Betsey  Sparrow,  who  had  cared  for  her  in  childhood.  With 
her  came  her  husband,  Thomas  Sparrow,  and  her  nephew, 
Dennis  Hanks,  Nancy's  cousin.  Dennis  was  a  young  fellow  of 
eighteen  years — old  enough  to  be  of  great  help  about  the  farm, 
and  still  young  enough  to  be  a  companion  to  Abe.  He  was  full 
of  fun,  wild  about  hunting  and  trapping,  and  knew  almost  as 
many  stories  as  Thomas  Lincoln  himself. 

The  family  welcomed  them  joyfully.  The  new  home  was  not 
quite  finished  but  they  moved  into  it,  and  turned  over  the  pole- 
shelter  to  the  Sparrows  to  use  until  they  could  locate. 

Eight-year-old  Abe  was  very  much  excited  over  their  com- 
ing, and  ran  to  and  fro  between  the  two  cabins  helping  with 
the  moving.  On  one  of  these  trips  he  found  himself  the  sole 
occupant  of  the  large  cabin,  the  others  having  gone  back  to  the 
camp.  As  he  started  for  the  door  to  run  after  them  a  flock  of 
wild  turkeys  came  out  of  the  woods  and  approached  the  cabin. 
For  a  moment  he  stood.  He  did  not  care  much  about  shooting. 
It  was  the  one  backwoods  art  in  which  he  never  perfected  him- 
self. Tom  had  vainly  tried  to  interest  him  in  hunting,  and  had 
taught  him  to  shoot  at  a  mark.  Now,  however,  obeying  a  sud- 
den impulse,  he  took  up  his  father's  rifle,  and  shot  at  the  tur- 
keys through  a  crack  in  the  walls.  A  bird  fell,  and  full  of  ela- 
tion at  having  brought  down  his  game  at  one  shot,  he  ran 
out,  and  picking  it  up  started  pell-mell  for  the  camp. 

"See,"  he  cried  gleefully  holding  it  up  to  view.  "I  shot  it. 
Cook  it  for  supper,  ma;  so  Aunt  Betsey  can  have  some." 

"Very  well,  Abe,"  said  his  mother  taking  the  turkey.  But 
at  supper  she  noticed  that  the  boy  did  not  eat  any  of  the 
bird. 


48  LINCOLN 

"Why  don't  you  eat  some,  Abe?"  asked  Sally.  "I  should 
think  you'd  eat  a  whole  lot  bein'  as  how  it's  the  first  one  you 
ever  shot.  Shouldn't  you,  Dennis?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Dennis.  "What's  the  matter,  Abe?" 

"I  just  don't  keer  for  it,"  responded  Abe  solemnly.  His 
mother  smiled  a  wise  little  smile.  She  noticed  too  that  while 
the  boy  talked  for  a  week  about  his  prowess  in  bringing  down 
the  bird  he  did  not  seem  to  care  about  doing  any  more  shoot- 
ing. It  was  in  fact,  the  only  time  he  ever  pulled  trigger  on 
game  of  any  sort.  There  was  something  within  him  that  re- 
belled against  killing. 

The  second  winter  was  easier  than  the  first  one  had  been. 
The  heavy  work  of  clearing  the  timber  for  corn  was  finished. 
While  there  still  remained  much  work  to  be  done  life  was 
more  diversified.  There  was  not  only  another  family  to  visit, 
but  other  new  settlers  were  coming  into  the  valley,  and  scat- 
tering their  cabins  here  and  there,  all  through  the  woods.  Their 
coming  brought  special  occasions  of  festivity.  The  men  in- 
dulged in  fox,  deer,  and  bear  hunts  by  day,  and  coon  hunts  by 
night.  There  were  log-raisings  and  frolics,  and  corn-huskings ; 
a  church  was  organized  with  the  meetings  held  at  private 
houses.  There  was  even  talk  of  a  school.  On  the  whole,  matters 
bid  fair  to  go  well  as  the  Spring  of  1818  brought  its  magic  of 
beauty  to  the  forest. 

With  the  heats  of  the  Summer,  however,  trouble  came.  One 
colorful  day  in  the  latter  part  of  August  Abe  and  Sarah  were 
out  in  an  open  glade  of  the  woods  picking  blackberries.  They 
were  large  and  luscious  berries,  the  biggest  and  best  they  had 
yet  found.  But  Abe  picked  them  without  comment.  Usually, 
on  such  occasions,  he  was  merry  and  full  of  fun,  playing  tricks 
on  Sally  so  that  the  forest  would  ring  with  their  laughter.  To- 


THE  NEW  HOME  49 

day  he  was  so  quiet  that  his  sister  glanced  at  him  anxiously. 

"What  makes  ye  so  still,  Abe?"  she  asked  at  length.  "I  have 
called  to  you  twicet,  and  you  didn't  answer.  What's  the  mat- 
ter? You  sick?" 

"I  was  thinking  about  ma,  Sally.  Have  you  noticed  how 
bad  she  looks  ?  It  'pears  to  me  like  she's  gittin'  thin." 

"She's  worried,"  Sally  told  him  promptly.  "I  heard  her  and 
pa  talkin'  about  it  last  night." 

"Worried?  What  about?"  Abe  ceased  his  picking  abruptly. 

"Well,  if  I  tell  you,  you  mustn't  let  on  that  I  said  anything 
about  it."  Sally  lowered  her  voice  and  glanced  about  appre- 
hensively. "Pa  said  not  to  say  anything  before  Dennis  or  us 
children  because  we  might  git  scared.  When  he  was  at  the 
Landing  last  week  he  heard  that  the  milk-sick  had  broke  out 
among  the  cattle  on  Pigeon  Creek ;  an'  yisterday  he  heard  that 
it  was  spreadin',  an'  that  lots  of  cattle  and  hosses  too  was  a- 
dyin'  on  the  farms.  Ma  is  worried  that  it  will  git  ourn  too." 

"Milk-sick?  What  is  that?"  asked  the  boy  wonderingly. 

"It's  a  disease.  Pa  called  it  a  pest.  He  said  nobody  know'd 
where  it  come  from,  or  what  caused  it.  And  ma  said  some  of 
the  women  told  her  that  the  Indians  claimed  that  it  was  caused 
by  the  cattle  eatin'  pizen  yarbs  in  the  woods.  Sometimes  people 
git  it  too.  Now  don't  tell  that  I  told  you." 

"I  won't  tell,"  promised  Abe.  But  he  pondered  the  matter 
seriously,  trying  to  think  what  it  meant,  and  why  it  was  so  bad 
as  to  make  his  mother  worry.  He  was  not  required  to  keep  his 
promise  long.  Like  a  fire  that  may  lie  hidden  for  a  time  ere 
it  bursts  into  flame,  the  disorder  spread  until  there  was  nothing 
else  talked  about  in  the  valley. 

Farms  were  stripped  of  cattle  and  horses,  and  from  the 
animals  it  went  to  the  people.  It  became  an  epidemic,  a  scourge, 


50  LINCOLN 

and  scarcely  a  house  in  the  settlement  was  free  of  its  dread 
presence.  There  was  no  doctor  within  thirty-five  miles,  and 
could  one  have  heen  had  he  would  not  have  known  what  to  do. 
The  malady  baffled  the  skill  of  physicians  for  many  years. 
There  was  nothing  that  the  afflicted  people  could  use  in  the 
way  of  remedies.  Only  careful  nursing  counted  for  anything. 

From  cabin  to  cabin  went  Nancy  Lincoln,  helping  all  she 
could  to  take  care  of  the  sufferers.  She  had  by  nature  the  gift 
of  healing,  and  knew  by  heart  all  the  simple  remedies  of  the 
backwoods.  Her  sympathy  and  loving  kindness  endeared  her 
to  every  one.  And  Thomas  too  did  his  part.  He  was  the  only 
one  in  the  settlement  who  knew  how  to  saw  logs  into  rough 
planks,  and  make  them  into  coffins.  And  there  was  frequent 
need  of  his  services. 

The  days  passed ;  days  filled  with  nameless  dread  as  the  pes- 
tilence swept  the  settlement.  There  is  nothing  that  so  saps  the 
courage  as  an  unseen  horror,  and  the  people  grew  terrorized, 
panic-stricken,  at  the  ghastly  presence  in  their  midst. The  val- 
ley became  a  Valley  of  the  Shadow. 

So  far  as  she  could,  Nancy  kept  the  family  life  at  the  cabin 
going  on  as  usual.  Abraham  and  Sarah  performed  her  duties 
when  she  was  called  to  the  bedside  of  a  sufferer,  and  none 
knew  who  would  be  stricken  next.  They  were  eating  their 
breakfast  of  corn-pone  and  bacon  one  morning  when  Dennis 
Hanks,  white  and  shaken,  burst  through  the  open  doorway,  so 
choked  with  sobs  that  he  could  scarcely  articulate. 

"Oh,  Cousin  Nancy,  come  quick!  Aunt  Betsey  and  Uncle 
Thomas  is  took  bad.  Come  quick!" 

Without  a  word  both  Thomas  and  Nancy  rose,  and  hastened 
at  once  to  the  half-faced  camp  where  the  Sparrows  lived.  As 
Dennis  had  said  "they  were  took  bad."  So  severe  was  the  at- 


THE  NEW  HOME  51 

tack  that  they  lived  but  a  few  days.  At  once  Dennis  became 
an  inmate  of  the  large  cabin  where  he  was  Abe's  companion 
for  many  years. 

Nancy  was  so  broken  in  her  grief  for  her  aunt  and  uncle, 
her  face  became  so  pale,  her  eyes  so  pensive  that  a  great  fear 
clutched  Abe's  heart.  Once  he  caught  Sally  staring  at  her 
mother  with  wide  eyes,  and  he  knew  that  she  too  was  afraid. 
Their  fear  was  justified ;  in  a  few  days  the  mother  was  stricken. 

Poor  Nancy  Lincoln!  Pioneering  is  a  hard  life  at  best,  but 
it  bears  with  especial  severity  on  women.  She  had  borne  so 
many  hardships,  and  was  so  thin  and  frail  that  the  plague 
found  her  an  easy  victim.  The  fever  did  its  work  in  a  week. 

The  husband  and  children  did  all  that  they  could  for  her. 
Abe  was  untiring  in  his  efforts.  Nancy  watched  him  tenderly 
as  he  waited  upon  her.  There  had  ever  been  loving  intimacy 
and  sympathy  between  her  and  her  children,  and  she  had  come 
to  know  what  a  rich  and  rare  nature  her  boy  possessed.  Once 
as  he  bent  over  her  she  whispered : 

"Read  to  me  from  the  Bible,  my  son." 

And  the  boy  read  the  Psalms  and  the  Promises  she  had  so 
loved.  Read  them  over  and  over  though  his  heart  was  near  to 
bursting  in  its  grief.  The  end  came  quickly.  He  was  on  his 
way  back  to  the  house  from  the  spring  with  a  bucket  of  water, 
one  morning,  and  Sally  was  at  the  woodpile  gathering  some 
chips  when  their  father  came  to  the  door,  and  beckoned  to 
them. 

"Come,  children,"  he  said  huskily,  "if  you  want  to  see  the 
last  of  your  mother." 

Boy  and  girl  hurried  into  the  cabin,  and  went  quickly  to 
the  bedside  of  their  mother.  She  rallied,  smiled  at  them  lov- 
ingly, and  said  feebly : 


52  LINCOLN 

"Be  good  to  each  other." 

And  then  as  Abraham,  unable  to  control  his  sorrow  fell 
on  his  knees  in  sobbing  anguish,  she  put  out  her  hand  and 
touched  his  head  gently. 

"Be  good  to  your  father  and  to  Sarah,  my  son.  I  want  you 
to  live  as  I  have  taught  you.  Love  your  kindred,  and  worship 
God." 

And  Nancy  was  dead. 

All  the  last  sad  rites  had  to  be  performed  by  the  members 
of  the  heart-broken  family  themselves.  The  pestilence  was  pres- 
ent in  every  cabin  in  the  settlement,  so  the  neighbors  could  not 
help  them.  They  dug  the  grave,  and  then  Thomas  made  the 
coffin  with  a  whip-saw,  while  tear-blinded  Abe,  with  shaking 
fingers,  whittled  out  the  wooden  pegs  that  were  to  hold  the 
boards  together.  When  everything  was  ready  they  bore  all 
that  was  mortal  of  her  to  a  knoll  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
cabin.  It  was  a  beautiful  spot;  and  there,  in  the  midst  of  an- 
cient oaks,  and  elms,  and  maples,  they  laid  her  to  rest. 

It  was  October.  The  foliage  was  just  beginning  to  put  on 
the  glory  of  the  autumnal  colorings.  The  sunlight  was  sifting 
through  the  great  canopy  of  leaves  and  boughs  lending  a  touch 
of  Summer  to  the  air  laden  with  the  wild  fragrance  of  the  last 
flowers  of  the  woods.  All  Nature  was  beautiful;  but  it  seemed 
to  the  grief-stricken  lad  that  a  pall  of  darkness  covered  the 
earth.  As  Thomas  and  Dennis  began  to  fill  the  grave  he  shook 
as  with  ague.  Every  shovelful  of  dirt  fell  on  his  heart  like  the 
stroke  of  a  hammer.  Sally  came  to  him,  and  putting  her  arms 
about  him  led  him  back  to  the  cabin. 


-sJ 


?^T 


CHAPTER  FIVE 


A   NEW    ORDER   OF   THINGS 


The  death  of  the  mother  had  happened  so  suddenly  that  it 
was  hard  for  the  bereaved  family  to  adjust  themselves  to  life 
without  her.  The  utter  blankness  of  desolation  settled  upon 
the  cabin.  A  woman  may  be  widowed,  left  with  young  chil- 
dren, be  breadwinner,  and  yet  in  spite  of  such  handicaps  be 
able  to  make  a  home  out  of  a  house.  A  man  under  the  same 
conditions  flounders  helplessly.  And  so  it  was  with  Thomas 
Lincoln  and  his  children.  "That  which  made  a  home  of  the  bare 
hut,  a  wife's  devotion  and  a  mother's  love,  was  gone." 

Sarah  at  once  assumed  the  management  of  the  house,  and 
with  Abraham's  help  tried  to  fill  the  place  of  her  mother.  She 
baked  the  corn-pone,  fried  the  bacon,  and  cooked  the  game,  but 
she  was  only  eleven  years  old,  and  there  were  many  things 
she  could  not  do.  Their  utter  poverty  which  Nancy  had  con- 
trived to  soften  was  now  laid  bare  in  all  its  naked  ugliness, 
and  the  cabin  was  a  cheerless,  lonely  place. 

Although  they  had  lived  in  it  more  than  a  year  Thomas  had 
not  found  time  to  finish  it.  There  was  yet  no  floor,  no  boards 

53 


54  LINCOLN 

for  a  door,  and  the  crevices  between  the  timbers  were  not 
chinked.  There  was  no  protection  from  the  driving  rain  or 
the  drifting  snow.  They  had  lived  in  this  manner  so  long  that 
it  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  him  that  he  might  make  things  more 
comfortable  by  fixing  up  a  bit  that  they  might  be  less  exposed 
to  the  weather.  And  the  winter  came  on. 

One  gleam  of  brightness  came  with  it:  the  pestilence  dis- 
appeared. As  mysteriously  as  it  had  come,  it  departed;  and 
life  in  the  Valley  took  on  something  of  the  old  order  and  peace. 

February  came,  bringing  with  it  a  birthday  for  both  boy  and 
girl;  for  Sarah  had  been  born  on  the  tenth  day  of  the  month, 
1807,  while  Abraham  was  born  on  the  twelfth  day,  1809.  The 
shadows  were  deepening  on  Abraham's  boyish  face,  and  the 
melancholy  that  was  inherent  in  his  nature  was  developing 
under  the  severe  experiences  he  was  undergoing.  It  had  cut 
him  to  the  heart  that  his  mother  should  be  laid  to  rest  without 
a  funeral  service  being  held  over  her  grave,  and  he  brooded 
about  it  constantly.  He  and  Sally  were  talking  it  over  as  they 
sat  in  front  of  a  blazing  fire  on  the  anniversary  of  his  birth. 

"It  don't  seem  right,"  he  said.  "She  ought  to  a  had  a  ser- 
mon." 

"But  there  wasn't  a  preacher  round,  Abe,"  Sally  reminded 
him.  "Nowheres  round!  You  know  there  ain't  no  meeting- 
house, an'  of  course  there  ain't  no  preacher." 

"I  know,"  answered  the  boy  moodily.  "But  it  don't  seem  as 
if  I  could  stand  it  lessen  there's  a  sermon."  He  sat  with  his 
elbows  on  his  knees,  his  face  in  his  hands,  staring  into  the 
flames  and  embers. 

"Well,  I'd  like  for  her  to  have  one  too,  Abe.  So  would  pa; 
but  I  don't  know  how  we  air  going  to  git  it." 

Abe  sat  plunged  in  thought.  All  at  once  he  sprang  to  his 


A  NEW  ORDER  OF  THINGS  55 

feet.  "I  know,  Sally,"  he  cried.  "I'll  write  to  Parson  Elkin, 
an'  see  if  he  will  come." 

"But  he's  at  Little  Mound,  Kaintuck,  Abe.  That's  a  long 
ways  from  here." 

"I  know  'tis,  but  I  believe  that  he'll  come.  And  ma  would 
ruther  have  him  than  anybody.  Pa  an'  Dennis  won't  be  home 
for  a  long  time  yit,  so  I'll  write  to  him  now." 

"They  won't  be  unless  they  have  luck.  They're  after  a  big 
buck  that  Den  saw  the  tracks  of  two  or  three  days  ago.  Though 
pa  did  say  that  he'd  be  here  before  there  was  much  shadder  in 
the  woods." 

Abe  brought  out  pen,  ink  and  paper,  and  sat  himself  down 
to  write  his  first  letter.  The  pen  was  made  from  the  quill  of  a 
turkey  buzzard ;  the  ink  was  made  of  blackberry  briar  root  with 
a  little  copperas  mixed  with  it,  and  the  paper  was  foolscap. 
The  Reverend  David  Elkin  had  been  well  acquainted  with  the 
Lincolns  in  Kentucky,  and  when  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Knob  Creek  home  had  frequently  passed  the  night  with  them. 
Nancy  and  Thomas  had  always  gone  to  hear  him  when  he 
preached  at  Little  Mound  Meeting-house,  so  that  he  was  a 
friend  of  the  family.  And  now  to  him  Abraham  wrote  a  tear- 
ful letter,  asking  that  he  would  come  and  preach  a  sermon 
above  his  mother's  grave. 

In  a  backwoods  community  where  there  were  few,  if  any, 
ministers,  it  was  not  always  possible  to  hold  a  funeral  service 
at  the  time  of  death.  Consequently,  a  custom  had  come  into 
vogue  of  holding  such  service,  by  way  of  memorial,  within 
the  year  following  the  death  of  the  person.  It  was  a  great  favor 
that  Little  Abe  was  asking  of  the  good  man,  as  it  meant  a 
journey  of  more  than  a  hundred  miles  on  horseback.  But,  bliss- 
fully ignorant  of  all  that  the  request  involved,  he  sent  his 


56  LINCOLN 

letter  by  the  first  passer-by  bound  for  Kentucky,  and  waited 
as  patiently  as  possible  for  the  reply. 

His  faith  in  the  Elder  was  justified.  In  due  time  he  re- 
ceived an  answer  to  his  letter,  in  which  the  minister  promised 
to  come  when  his  calls  of  duty  led  him  near  the  Indiana  line. 

Early  in  the  following  summer  the  kindly  man  came  to  re- 
deem his  word.  On  a  bright  and  sunny  Sabbath  morning,  due 
notice  having  been  sent  through  all  the  vast  region,  men, 
women,  and  children  gathered  from  far  and  near  to  hear 
Nancy  Lincoln's  funeral  sermon  preached.  She  was  universally 
respected  and  loved;  her  ministrations  to  sufferers  during  the 
time  of  the  plague  having  endeared  her  to  every  one.  Now  the 
settlers  grouped  round  the  lonely  grave,  sitting  on  fallen  trees, 
stumps,  and  on  bunches  of  grass,  or  on  wagon  tongues  that 
they  might  do  her  honor. 

There  could  have  been  no  more  beautiful  setting  for  such 
an  occasion  than  the  forest — God's  own  temple.  The  giant 
trees  formed  a  cathedral  in  which  Nature  seemed  to  shed  a 
benediction:  birds  were  singing,  and  the  warm  sunlight  filled 
the  air.  As  the  good  preacher  told  of  the  virtues  and  the  pa- 
tiently borne  sufferings  of  the  departed  mother,  tears  fell  fast 
from  Abraham's  eyes.  They  were  no  longer  tears  of  bitter 
grief,  however,  but  those  that  eased  his  sad  heart.  He  found 
comfort  in  the  presence  of  the  settlers,  in  the  hymns  and 
prayers,  in  the  sermon,  and  above  all  in  the  fact  that  his  loved 
mother  was  committed  to  God's  keeping  with  proper  cere- 
mony. 

The  daily  tasks  at  the  cabin  went  on  as  usual.  Thomas 
planted  and  sowed.  He  hunted  and  trapped,  but,  while  the 
skins  were  dressed  and  cured,  Sally  was  unable  to  fashion 


A  NEW  ORDER  OF  THINGS  57 

them  into  garments.  She  could  make  moccasins  of  a  sort,  but 
the  shirts  and  breeches  were  beyond  her  skill.  Both  children 
were  rapidly  outgrowing  their  garments,  as  well  as  wearing 
them  out.  Even  among  settlers  who  dressed,  as  the  Indians 
had  before  them,  wholly  in  skins,  the  children  were  ragged,  un- 
kempt, and  uncared  for.  It  did  not  seem  so  much  of  a  hard- 
ship to  do  with  scanty  clothing  through  the  warm  weather,  but 
as  the  fall  came  on,  and  they  faced  the  prospect  of  another 
winter,  the  father  roused  himself.  Something  had  to  be  done. 
He  became  thoughtful,  and  sat  much  by  the  fire  brooding  over 
the  matter.  There  came  a  day  when  he  called  the  boy  and 
girl  to  his  side. 

"I'm  going  back  to  Kaintuck  for  a  spell,"  he  told  them. 
"I  don't  know  how  long  I'll  be  gone,  but  not  more'n  four 
weeks.  Thar's  plenty  of  corn  meal  and  bacon  in  the  house,  so 
you  won't  starve;  and  Dennis  can  trap  small  game  for  fresh 
meat.  Thar's  wood  for  the  chopping,  so  you  won't  freeze. 
Now  good-bye!  Be  good  children.  Abe,  you  look  sharp  after 
Sally." 

"I  will,  pa,"  answered  the  boy;  and  the  father  took  his  de- 
parture. 

"Did  he  let  on  to  you  what  he  was  goin'  for?"  asked  Abe 
of  his  sister. 

"No,  Abe."  Sally  looked  troubled.  "I  do  hope  it  ain't  movin'. 
You  know  he  went  off  before  we  moved  here." 

"Well,  I  reckon  I  know  what  Uncle  Thomas  had  on  his 
mind,"  chuckled  Dennis  Hanks  who  was  now  a  young  fel- 
low of  twenty.  He  had  taken  to  calling  Thomas  uncle  who 
was  really  his  cousin  by  marriage. 

"Tell  us,  Den?"  pleaded  Abe. 


58  LINCOLN 

'  'Tain't  for  me  to  tell  when  Uncle  Thomas  didn't,"  he 
replied.  "But  it  ain't  movin'.  Not  by  a  long  shot!"  and  would 
say  no  more,  but  his  vague  hints  in  the  days  that  followed  filled 
the  boy  and  girl  with  apprehension  and  expectation. 

The  weeks  passed,  and  the  wind  and  storms  whistled  through 
the  woods  and  blew  drearily  in  through  the  open  doorway  and 
crevices  of  the  cabin.  The  rousing  fire  which  was  kept  going 
day  and  night  was  all  that  made  the  place  endurable. 

It  had  been  November  when  the  father  left  them.  It  was 
on  an  afternoon  in  December  when  there  came  a  great  shout 
from  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  and  the  young  people  ran  out 
of  the  cabin  to  see  what  it  meant.  It  was  Tom  Lincoln's  voice, 
and  it  was  Tom  Lincoln  himself  who  sat  on  the  seat  of  a  lum- 
ber wagon  drawn  by  four  horses.  There  were  other  people  in 
the  wagon  with  him,  but  so  bundled  up  were  they  that  the  chil- 
dren could  not  tell  who  they  were.  There  was  also  property 
of  some  kind. 

There  was  a  broad  grin  on  the  face  of  Dennis  as  the  team 
was  driven  into  the  clearing,  and  he  saw  that  one  of  the  per- 
sons in  the  wagon  was  a  woman.  Thomas  helped  her  carefully 
from  the  wagon,  and  turned  to  his  children  with, 

"Well,  children,  I've  brought  you  a  new  mother.  Come, 
Sally!  Come,  Abe!  Give  her  good  welcome." 

The  boy  and  girl  did  not  respond  at  once.  It  is  a  very  try- 
ing moment  when  a  woman  who  is  to  take  the  place  of  a 
mother  meets  the  children  of  that  mother  for  the  first  time  in 
the  new  relation.  A  trying  moment  for  both  the  children  and 
the  woman.  So  now  the  boy  and  the  girl  turned  eager,  earnest, 
questioning  eyes  upon  her  who  was  to  fill  their  mother's  place. 
It  was  Abe  who,  reassured  by  what  he  saw,  moved  towards  her 
shyly;  and  she,  touched  by  something  in  his  sad,  serious,  sensi- 


A  NEW  ORDER  OF  THINGS  59 

tive  face,  opened  her  arms,  and  took  him  into  a  close  embrace. 
It  was  the  beginning  of  an  abiding  affection  between  them. 
And  now  Sally,  crying  with  quick,  sobbing  relief, 

"Oh,  goody!  it's  Mis.  Johnston!"  flew  to  take  Abe's  place 
in  the  new  mother's  arms. 

She  was  no  stranger  to  them.  She  had  been  a  friend  of  their 
mother,  and  was  known  to  be  good  and  kind.  Her  maiden  name 
was  Bush,  and  it  was  said  that  Thomas  Lincoln  had  courted 
her  before  her  first  marriage,  but  had  been  rejected  in  favor 
of  his  rival,  Johnston.  Her  husband  had  died  about  the  same 
time  that  Nancy  Lincoln  did,  and  Tom  had  heard  of  it.  He 
took  the  trip  to  Elizabethtown,  Kentucky,  on  a  chance  which 
turned  out  happily.  Seeing  the  joyous  welcome  accorded  to  his 
bride  Thomas  now  lifted  two  girls  and  a  boy  out  of  the  lumber 
wagon,  and  brought  them  over  to  where  his  wife  and  children 
stood. 

"And  here's  a  new  brother,  an'  two  new  sisters,"  he  said. 
"They  air  John,  Sarah,  and  Matilda.  I  reckon  they've  grow'd 
some  since  you  seen  'em.  You  all  won't  be  so  lonesome  now. 
And  here's  your  Uncle  Ralph  Krume  too.  He  druv  us  here 
with  his  bosses  an'  wagon.  I  reckon  we'll  all  be  glad  to  git 
somethin'  to  eat." 

The  children  were  soon  chattering  together,  while  Thomas 
led  his  tall,  curly-haired  bride  into  the  cabin.  Whatever  may 
have  been  her  thoughts  Sarah  Bush  Lincoln  made  no  comment 
as  she  glanced  about  the  unfinished,  bare  room.  Here  were  in- 
deed the  home  and  the  farm  that  Thomas  had  told  her  about, 
but  facts,  like  people,  may  be  dressed  to  hide  infirmities;  and 
Thomas  was  a  good  romancer.  He  may  or  may  not  ever  have 
heard  the  old  adage  that  "Everything  is  fair  in  love  or  war," 
but  he  had  made  use  of  its  precepts  to  get  the  woman  he 


60  LINCOLN 

wanted.  Now,  the  woman  accepted  the  situation,  and  rose  to 
the  occasion. 

"Before  we  eat,  Tom,"  she  remarked,  "let's  unload,  and  be- 
gin to  make  things  more  comfortable." 

"All  right,  Sairy,"  answered  Thomas,  a  relieved  expression 
flitting  across  his  face. 

The  contents  of  the  wagon,  which  were  now  transferred  to 
the  house,  were  a  source  of  marvel  to  Abraham  and  Sarah. 
They  could  only  stare  with  wide,  wondering  eyes  as  Thomas, 
Dennis,  and  Ralph  Krume  carried  them  into  the  house.  Mrs. 
Sarah  Bush  Lincoln  was  not  rich  in  money,  but  she  was  pos- 
sessed of  a  considerable  amount  of  household  goods.  So  much, 
in  fact,  that  Thomas  had  been  obliged  to  hire  his  brother-in- 
law,  Ralph  Krume,  to  bring  his  four-horse  team  to  transport 
them  from  Kentucky  to  the  Indiana  home.  There  was  a  table, 
a  set  of  real  chairs,  a  chest  of  drawers,  a  bureau  that  was  said 
to  have  cost  forty  dollars,  a  large  sum  for  the  time,  feather 
beds  and  pillows,  homespun  blankets  and  quilts,  a  flax  wheel, 
soap  and  kettle,  knives,  forks,  cooking  utensils,  and  other  ar- 
ticles. Compared  with  the  meagre  furnishings  of  the  cabin 
they  were  of  unparalleled  magnificence. 

That  there  was  to  be  a  new  order  of  things  was  soon  shown. 
Mrs.  Lincoln  began  her  beneficent  reign  the  very  next  morning 
after  her  arrival,  with  a  peremptory  command : 

"Dennis,  tote  one  of  your  Uncle  Tom's  carpenter  benches 
outside,  and  set  it  by  the  hoss  trough.  Then  you,  John,  and 
Abe,  fill  the  trough  with  water  from  the  spring." 

When  this  had  been  done  she  brought  out  two  gourds,  one 
of  soft  soap,  and  the  other — a  smaller  one — to  dip  water  with, 
and  setting  them  on  the  bench,  said : 

"Now  you  boys  wash  up  and  git  your  hair  combed  for  din- 


A  NEW  ORDER  OF  THINGS  61 

ner.  While  you  can't  help  gitting  dirty  about  a  farm  it's  a 
mighty  easy  thing  to  wash  the  dirt  off.  I  like  clean  boys." 

When  Abe,  with  face  and  hands  that  had  been  scoured  un- 
til they  shone,  his  heavy  dark  hair  slicked  down  as  smooth  as 
water  could  plaster  it,  entered  the  cabin  at  noon,  he  noticed 
at  once  that  Sally  had  undergone  a  transformation  also.  For 
her  face  was  clean,  and  her  rippling  brown  hair  was  combed 
and  hung  in  a  neat  braid  down  her  back.  The  stepmother  had 
combed  it  herself,  saying, 

"Sally,  your  hair  is  too  nice  to  let  it  git  full  of  tangles  like 
this.  It's  much  nicer  than  either  Tilly's  or  Sarah's.  If  you'll 
only  keep  it  combed,  and  your  face  clean,  you'll  grow  to  be 
as  purty  as  your  mother.  An'  Nancy  Hanks  was  as  purty  a 
gal  as  ever  lived  in  Elizabethtown." 

And  thereafter,  Sally  was  as  neat  and  tidy  about  her  per- 
son as  either  of  the  Johnston  girls.  But  this  was  not  all.  The 
boy  overheard  his  new  mother  talking  with  his  father,  and  she 
was  saying: 

"Now,  Thomas,  the  first  thing  we  need  is  a  floor;  and  we 
need  it  the  worst  way.  It  air  the  winter  season;  just  the  time 
to  do  a  little  fixing  about  the  house.  You'd  better  get  to  work 
chopping  logs  for  puncheons  for  a  floor  this  afternoon." 

To  Abraham's  amazement  his  father  consented  meekly. 
Mrs.  Sarah  Bush  Lincoln  was  a  thrifty,  energetic  woman  of 
thirty-one  years,  blooming  and  vigorous.  She  saw  no  reason 
in  leaving  the  house  in  its  unfinished  condition  when  a  small 
amount  of  labor  would  make  it  comfortable.  Easy-going 
Thomas  Lincoln  needed  a  spur,  and  Sally  Bush  was  just  the 
woman  for  him.  He  began  felling  trees  and  transforming  them 
into  puncheons  that  very  day.  When  a  log  of  wood  is  split 
through  lengthwise  and  the  faces  of  the  halves  are  trimmed 


C2  LINCOLN 

fiat,  the)'  become  puncheons,  and  in  this  shape  are  available 
for  many  purposes.  Not  a  great  number  would  be  required  for 
a  floor,  and  Thomas  was  a  good  woodsman,  so  that  only  a  few 
days  were  needed  for  the  cutting;  the  laying  followed  ex- 
peditiously. 

The  wonder  went  further.  After  the  floor  was  laid  Mrs. 
Lincoln  had  her  husband  to  make  a  door  that  swung 
on  hinges;  to  cut  places  for  windows,  and  cover  them  with 
greased  paper  to  let  the  light  in.  Every  nook  and  corner  of 
the  cabin,  inside  and  out,  was  looked  after  and  put  into  shape. 
After  all  was  done,  and  the  new  furniture  was  set  in  place, 
there  was  a  comfort  and  cosiness  about  it  that  never  had  been 
there  before. 

There  seemed  no  end  to  the  marvels  Mrs.  Lincoln  wrought. 
She  had  brought  a  goodly  supply  of  clothing  for  her  own  chil- 
dren, and  now  she  distributed  it  equally  among  the  five  and 
Dennis  Hanks.  Abe  and  Sarah  were  warmly  clad,  and  had 
shoes  and  stockings.  She  had  feather  beds  put  in  the  loft  to 
take  the  place  of  the  heap  of  leaves  on  which  Dennis  and  Abe 
had  been  sleeping,  and  with  good  blankets  and  skins  the  boys 
were  warm  through  the  most  bitter  nights. 

"Aunt  Sarah  sartainly  has  faculty,"  chuckled  Dennis  as 
Mrs.  Lincoln  had  Thomas  build  her  a  chicken  house  that 
nothing  could  get  into,  and  an  ash  hopper  for  lye.  "You  jest 
natchully  have  to  be  somebody  when  she's  around.  Cracky! 
but  she's  some  punkins!" 

"She's  right,"  was  Abe's  brief  comment.  "Seems  like  every- 
thing she  does  is  to  make  things  better.  I'd  do  a  heap  for 
mother." 

He  said  the  word  tenderly.  His  whole  heart  had  gone  out 
to  this  woman  who  had  brought  such  happiness  and  comfort 


A  NEW  ORDER  OF  THINGS  63 

to  the  household.  There  seemed  to  be  a  special  harmony  be- 
tween them,  and  her  slightest  wish  was  his  law.  In  the  years 
that  followed  he  never  gave  her  a  cross  word  or  look;  nor  she 
him.  To  the  end  of  his  life  he  loved  her  dearly,  and  she  returned 
his  affection. 

The  little  cabin  was  crowded,  but  the  family  of  eight  dwelt 
in  peace  in  the  one  room.  With  three  young  girls  and  three 
fun-loving  boys  it  was  no  longer  a  place  of  gloom,  but  a  home 
ringing  with  happy  voices.  And  Abraham's  melancholy  fell 
from  him  for  the  time  being,  and  he  was  the  merriest  among 
them. 

Life  had  taken  an  upward  trend. 


CHAPTER  SIX 


ABRAHAM  S    WORLD   EXPANDS 


"I  do  declare,  Abe,  I  don't  know  what  I  am  going  to  do 
with  you,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lincoln  one  afternoon  in  the  Fall 
of  the  year  as  Abraham  came  into  the  cabin  from  the  field 
where  he  had  been  pulling  fodder.  It  was  two  years  after  her 
coming. 

"What  have  I  been  doin\  mother?"  questioned  the  boy  seat- 
ing himself  by  the  fire. 

"Why,  you  air  just  a  growing  out  of  everything,"  the  good 
woman  told  him  in  tones  of  exasperation.  "  'Pears  like  I  can't 
keep  anything  to  fit  you.  You  air  just  shooting  up  like  a  weed." 

"We'll  have  to  git  pa  to  put  a  board  on  my  head  to  keep 
me  down,"  observed  Abe,  looking  down  at  his  long  legs  whim- 
sically. "I  don't  know  anything  else  to  do." 

The  lad  was  growing  at  a  tremendous  rate.  In  his  eleventh 
year  he  had  begun  to  shoot  up  until  now,  at  twelve  years  of 
age,  he  fairly  overtopped  his  companions.  It  seemed  as  though 
he  would  never  stop.  It  was  no  wonder  that  his  mother  de- 
spaired of  keeping  him  in  suitable  clothing. 

"I  don't  know  anything  else  to  do,"  he  repeated. 

"I  don't  believe  that  a  cord  of  wood  would  hold  you  down," 

G4 


ABRAHAM'S  WORLD  EXPANDS     65 

remarked  his  mother.  "There's  them  new  buckskin  breeches, 
made  just  a  month  ago;  and  just  look  at  'em!  Why!  they  don't 
even  cover  your  legs!" 

Abraham  laughed  and  glanced  again  at  his  legs  where  a 
long  length  showed  below  the  bottoms  of  his  trousers  to  his 
bare  feet.  He  wore  the  regulation  dress  of  the  frontier:  coon- 
skin  cap,  buckskin  breeches,  doeskin  shirt,  although  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln varied  this  latter  garment  with  one  of  linsey-woolsey 
whenever  she  could. 

"But  you  see,  mother,  I  git  them  wet  in  the  fields  of  morn- 
in's,  and  I've  been  caught  in  the  rain  a  couple  of  times  when 
I've  been  choppin'  in  the  woods.  And  buckskin  will  shrink 
when  it  gits  wet  and  dries  in  the  sun." 

"I  know;  but  added  to  that  you  have  grow'd  two  inches. 
Well,  I  s'pose  we  can't  do  anything  but  stand  it.  Nothing'll 
stop  you  until  you  get  your  growth.  But  I  do  wish  you'd 
broaden  out  a  little,  and  fleshen  up  a  bit,  'stead  of  going  all 
to  top.  You  keep  on,  and  you  won't  be  able  to  get  into  the 
new  school  house;  you'll  be  so  tall." 

Abe  straightened  up.  "Air  we  goin',  mother?" 

"Yes.  Your  father  don't  seem  to  take  to  the  idea  much, 
but  I  don't  want  any  of  you  children  growing  up  without  some 
book  laming.  And  I've  a  queer  notion  that  it'll  be  the  making 
of  you." 

"Why,  mother?" 

"I  don't  know;  but  you're  different  someway.  And  I  want 
you  to  have  schooling;  all  you  can  get.  It  won't  harm  the  other 
children  to  have  it  either;  but  you  must." 

Mrs.  Lincoln  had  become  very  fond  of  Abraham.  She  had 
found  that  he  had  ability  and  aptitude,  and  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  that  the  boy  should  take  advantage  of  whatever 


66  LINCOLN 

opportunity  offered.  His  father  had  opposed  the  matter  vigor- 
ously, declaring  that  the  expense  of  schooling  was  more  than 
they  could  afford.  The  tuition  for  six  would  bear  rather  heavily 
upon  him,  but  Mrs.  Lincoln  had  her  way,  and  the  children  were 
to  start  as  soon  as  the  new  school  house  was  ready.  Dennis 
Hanks  was  included  as  a  matter  of  course.  He  was  a  young 
fellow,  fully  of  age,  but  on  the  frontier  young  men,  and  young 
women  too,  went  to  school  whenever  they  could  without  regard 
to  years. 

The  settlement  was  now  a  growing  one,  and  the  farms  were 
no  longer  so  far  apart.  To  satisfy  their  first  great  need  the 
settlers  had  built  a  meeting-house  over  on  Little  Pigeon  Creek, 
a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  Lincoln  farm.  They  then  decided 
that  the  time  had  come  for  a  school;  so  they  felled  trees,  cut 
the  trunks  into  suitable  lengths,  notched  the  logs,  and  rolled 
them  into  place,  building  the  structure  near  the  new  meeting- 
house. Having  no  glass,  thin  strips  of  wood  were  fastened 
across  the  opening  left  for  a  window,  on  which  greased  paper 
was  pasted.  There  was  a  puncheon  floor,  and  split  logs  roughly 
leveled  with  an  axe  and  set  up  on  legs  served  for  benches. 
The  roof  was  just  high  enough  for  a  man  to  stand  erect,  and 
Mrs.  Lincoln's  fear  that  Abe  might  soon  be  too  tall  to  enter 
was  well  founded.  A  Mr.  Azel  Dorsey  had  been  employed  as 
teacher,  and  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic  were  to  be 
taught. 

It  was  opening  a  door  into  a  wider  world  for  Abraham.  He 
"took  to  learning"  amazedly,  to  use  a  local  expression,  and  was 
so  eager  in  its  acquisition  that  he  quickly  surpassed  his  com- 
panions. It  was  the  custom  for  a  pupil  to  spell  through  the 
speller  many  times  before  he  began  to  read,  and  Master  Dor- 
sey demanded  a  faithful  use  of  Webster's  Elementary  Spell- 


ABRAHAM'S  WORLD  EXPANDS  67 

ing  Book  before  a  reader  was  put  into  children's  hands.  They 
spelled  in  classes,  and  "trapped"  up  and  down.  These  juvenile 
contests  were  very  exciting  to  the  participants,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  Abe  could  spell  down  all  the  other  pupils  in  his 
class.  Master  Dorsey  was  so  pleased  at  his  progress,  which 
spoke  well  for  his  ability  as  a  teacher,  that  he  at  once  ad- 
vanced him  to  the  reader. 

Abraham's  world  was  expanding  also  in  the  matter  of  new 
acquaintances.  The  country  was  settling  up,  so  that  there  were 
nearly  two  dozen  boys  and  girls  in  the  school,  and  it  was  a 
matter  of  but  a  few  days  for  him  to  become  acquainted  with 
them  all. 

A  school  is  a  miniature  world  in  which  boys  must  prove 
themselves  to  establish  a  standing  among  their  fellows.  So 
Abraham  was  tried  in  wrestling,  throwing  a  weight,  and  in 
fights,  and  was  able  to  give  a  good  account  of  himself.  The 
time  was  coming  when  he  would  be  a  champion  in  all  these 
sports,  but  even  as  young  as  he  was  he  commanded  respect  for 
his  prowess.  It  was  marvelous  how  his  physical  strength  kept 
pace  with  his  growth  in  stature. 

Attendance  at  school  was  irregular.  Deep  snows  or  thaws 
would  render  walking  impossible;  there  was  corn  to  be  shelled, 
animals  to  be  cared  for,  fuel  to  be  provided,  hunting  and  trap- 
ping for  meat  and  skins,  much  land  to  be  cleared,  so  that  be- 
tween the  weather  and  home  duties  not  much  time  was  left 
to  devote  to  the  school.  But  Abraham  made  the  most  of  his 
opportunity.  There  were  no  books  at  home  save  the  Bible,  and 
over  this  he  pored  until  he  knew  the  stories  by  heart.  He 
did  not  understand  the  urge  that  compelled  him  to  study;  he 
only  knew  that  he  was  possessed  of  a  great  desire  to  know — to 
know. 


68  LINCOLN 

With  the  coining  of  settled  spring  weather  the  school  was 
brought  to  a  close  that  teacher  and  pupils  alike  might  turn 
their  attention  to  the  planting  of  corn  and  potatoes.  With  so 
many  helpers  Thomas  Lincoln  saw  no  reason  why  every  avail- 
able acre  should  not  be  put  into  corn,  and  a  great  deal  of  land 
had  been  cleared  through  the  winter.  So  plowing  and  planting 
meant  much  to  the  boys  that  year.  But  it  was  over  at  length, 
and  Abe  sat  on  top  of  the  fence,  which  surrounded  the  farm, 
one  noon  waiting  for  dinner  with  a  whole  afternoon  of  leisure 
before  him. 

It  was  a  favorite  perch  of  his,  for  a  road  had  been  laid  out 
through  the  wilderness  from  Corydon  to  Evansville  which  ran 
past  the  farm,  and  often  there  were  wayfarers  with  whom  he 
might  talk.  This  quizzing  of  passers-by  was  a  practice  which 
greatly  annoyed  his  father  who  could  not  sympathize  with  the 
inquiring  mind  of  his  son.  Sometimes  Thomas  Lincoln  pun- 
ished him  for  it;  at  other  times  he  sent  him  into  the  house. 

It  was  an  old-fashioned  rail  fence,  and  often  chipmunks 
played  upon  its  rails,  or  nested  in  its  corners.  On  this  day  Abe 
had  coaxed  a  fox  squirrel  from  the  woods  on  the  other  side 
of  the  road  to  come  up  on  the  fence  and  eat  some  nuts  from 
his  hand.  As  he  sat  delighting  in  its  antics  he  heard  wheels, 
and  glanced  up  to  see  a  wagon,  drawn  by  a  team  of  oxen,  com- 
ing down  the  road.  It  was  a  tented,  or  covered,  wagon,  and 
was  moving  slowly  for  the  road  was  rough,  and  filled  with  ruts 
and  gullies.  As  Abe  sat  watching  its  approach,  wondering  who 
the  occupants  were  and  where  they  were  going,  there  came  a 
crash  as  the  forewheel  of  the  wagon  on  the  side  next  to  the 
fence  thumped  down  into  a  deep  rut,  and  crumpled  up  under 
the  vehicle. 

"What's   the   matter,   William?"   asked   a   pleasant   voice, 


One  of  Lincoln's  Favorite  Perches  Was  on  Top  of  an  Old- 
fashioned  Rail  Fence 


ABRAHAM'S  WORLD  EXPANDS      69 

and  a  woman  crawled  out  from  under  the  top  as  the  oxen 
stopped  short  at  a  command  from  the  driver. 

"The  wagon's  broke  down,  Manda.  We'll  have  to  stop  a 
while  until  I  can  get  it  fixed.  Come,  girls!" 

Two  girls  emerged  from  the  wagon  bed  in  obedience  to  the 
call,  and  stood  gazing  disconsolately  at  the  broken  wheel. 
One  was  slightly  older  than  Abe;  the  other,  some  two  years 
younger,  was  the  prettiest  girl  he  had  ever  seen,  the  boy  de- 
cided instantly.  Quickly  he  got  down  from  the  fence  and  ran 
towards  them. 

"My  father  will  help  you  fix  the  wagon,  sir,"  he  said. 

The  man  turned  to  him  with  eagerness. 

"Why,  son,  that  would  be  fine.  Where  is  your  father?" 

But  at  this  moment  Thomas  himself,  having  heard  the  crash, 
appeared  on  the  scene.  After  him  came  Mrs.  Lincoln. 

"Howdy,  stranger,"  said  Thomas  shaking  the  man's  hand. 
"What  broke?" 

"That  fore  wheel.  You  see  it  was  an  old  wheel,  and  when 
we  plumped  into  that  deep  rut  the  whole  weight  of  the  wagon 
was  thrown  on  it,  and,  weakened  by  age,  it  just  buckled  under 
it." 

"Well,  this  is  going  to  take  quite  a  while  to  fix,"  reported 
Thomas  after  an  examination  of  the  wagon.  "But  I  reckon 
we  can  manage  it.  I  have  a  wheel  that  you  can  have,  but  it  'ud 
be  best  to  go  over  the  hull  wagon  to  strengthen  it.  'Specially  if 
you're  goin'  far." 

"We  are  bound  for  Illinois,"  answered  the  man. 

"Illinois,  eh?  I've  sometimes  thought  of  goin'  there  myself. 
I  reckon  it's  a  fine  country  from  all  I  hear?" 

"Now  while  the  men  are  talking  about  the  wagon  you  all 
just  come  up  to  the  house,  and  rest  yourselves,"  said  Mrs. 


70  LINCOLN 

Lincoln  to  the  woman.  "It's  hard  riding  all  day.  You  must  be 
tired." 

"It  is  wearying,  and  we'll  be  glad  to  rest  awhile  if  it  won't 
be  putting  you  out  any?"  the  woman  replied  with  quick  ap- 
preciation of  the  other's  hospitality. 

"It  won't  put  me  out  a  bit,"  responded  Mrs.  Lincoln.  "Din- 
ner's just  ready,  and  a  good  hot  meal,  eaten  at  a  table,  will 
do  you  good,  and  hearten  you  up.  I  know  what  camping  is." 

The  whole  party  moved  into  the  cabin.  The  Lincoln  girls 
immediately  took  possession  of  the  new  girls,  and  soon  they 
were  chatting  gaily.  The  boys  hung  about,  interested  but  too 
shy  to  take  any  part  in  the  conversation.  Dinner  was  soon 
over,  and  Mr.  Lincoln,  the  mover,  and  Dennis  Hanks  went 
back  to  the  road  to  repair  the  wagon.  Such  was  the  law  of  the 
border:  a  stranger  in  trouble  must  be  helped  though  the  whole 
work  of  the  farm  be  stopped  to  do  it. 

After  they  had  gone  the  younger  girl  ran  to  her  mother, 
crying:  "Oh,  mother!  we've  been  telling  these  girls  about  the 
stories  that  you've  been  reading  to  us,  and  they  want  to  hear 
them  too.  Will  you  read  some  of  them?" 

"Why,  yes;  if  Mrs.  Lincoln  doesn't  mind." 

"Not  a  bit,"  answered  Mrs.  Lincoln.  "It  will  be  a  treat  for 
the  children." 

"Well,  get  me  a  book,  dear." 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  spoke  Abraham  eagerly  as  the  little  girl 
started  for  the  road. 

"All  right;  I  like  you."  Slipping  her  hand  into  his  the  two 
sped  down  to  the  wagon. 

As  has  been  said,  there  had  never  been  a  book,  save  the 
Bible,  in  the  Lincoln  cabin;  but  now,  before  his  astonished 
eyes,  there  were  several  books  lying  about  the  wagon  bed.  The 


ABRAHAM  S  WORLD  EXPANDS  71 

little  girl  chose  two  which  she  gave  him  to  carry,  and  they 
returned  to  the  house. 

He  never  forgot  the  afternoon  that  followed.  Story  after 
story  was  read,  and  the  boy  sat  enthralled.  He  had  never  heard 
such  stories,  and  dimly  he  glimpsed  the  fact  that  wide  fields 
of  knowledge  lay  in  books. 

The  repairs  finished,  the  party  moved  on;  and  then,  boy 
fashion,  Abe  began  to  spin  a  romance  of  his  own.  He  would 
take  his  father's  horse,  follow  the  wagon,  and  persuade  the 
little  girl  to  run  away  with  him.  And  then  he  imagined  that 
he  did  so,  and  that  she  consented  to  go  with  him.  They  started 
off  across  the  prairies,  but  the  horse  would  not  go  on,  but 
turned  and  came  back  to  camp.  Three  times  they  tried  to  go, 
and  every  time  the  horse  brought  them  back.  Then  they  de- 
cided that  they  ought  not  to  elope.  But  this  was  not  to  be  the 
end ;  he  would  stay  in  the  camp  and  work  for  her  father  until 
he  had  won  his  consent  to  marry  the  girl. 

It  was  a  boy's  dream,  born  of  a  thirst  for  romance,  and 
elemental  as  Adam.  And  along  with  the  dream  came  an  over- 
whelming desire  for  books. 

The  fulfillment  of  this  longing  came  about  unexpectedly. 
One  of  the  settlers  called  one  day  with  the  request  that  Thomas 
Lincoln  should  let  him  have  one  of  the  boys  to  help  him  with 
his  hoeing.  It  was  the  custom  then  that  all  earnings  of  a  boy 
were  his  father's  until  he  was  twenty-one.  Thomas  considered 
the  matter.  It  would  mean  money  for  him,  and  money  was 
scarce.  In  the  end  Abraham  was  sent  with  the  man.  It  was 
the  beginning  of  his  hiring  out. 

But  there  were  compensations ;  for  the  man  had  books.  See- 
ing the  boy's  interest  in  them  he  let  him  take  one  home  with 
him  to  read.  The  book  was  iEsop's  Fables.  By  reason  of  his 


72  LINCOLN 

retentive  memory  Abe  was  already  reckoned  the  best  story- 
teller among  his  companions,  and  had  a  wide  popularity  on 
account  of  it.  There  were  many  stories  current  in  the  neigh- 
borhood— facts  and  fiction ;  bits  of  history  and  wood-lore ;  and 
much  humor  of  a  rude  sort;  he  knew  them  all.  From  iEsop  he 
learned  many  more,  and,  best  of  all,  he  learned  the  way  to  dress 
a  story  so  that  there  might  be  either  a  moral  or  a  sharp  point 
at  the  end  of  it. 

The  Fables  had  to  be  returned  in  time,  but  not  before  Abra- 
ham had  read  it  over  and  over  until  he  had  made  its  contents 
his  own.  Its  place  was  taken  by  another  story-teller  of  a  very 
different  kind,  and  he  made  the  marvelous  pilgrimage  of 
Pilgrim's  Progress  with  delight.  John  Bunyan's  wonderful 
book  lifted  him  out  of  his  surroundings  and  gave  him  a  spirit- 
ual outlook  that  he  needed. 

Other  books  turned  up  here  and  there.  The  news  of  his 
thirst  for  knowledge  went  all  over  the  settlement,  and  while 
the  people  termed  him  "odd,"  "queer,"  and  "peculiarsome," 
they  took  a  sort  of  pride  in  having  such  a  boy  among  them,  and 
willingly  loaned  him  books.  Thomas  Lincoln  viewed  the  mat- 
ter with  exasperation. 

"He's  gittin'  so  he  ain't  wuth  anything  any  more,"  he  com- 
plained to  his  wife.  "He's  always  got  his  nose  stuck  in  a  book. 
He  don't  take  to  farmin',  he  don't  take  to  carpentry,  he  don't 
take  to  nothin'  but  larnin'.  I  don't  know  what'll  become  of 
him." 

"Now,  Thomas,  don't  worry,"  replied  Mrs.  Lincoln.  "Abe 
is  a  good  boy.  There  ain't  a  better  one  nowheres  round.  He's 
obedient,  and  works  well  at  whatever  you  give  him  to  do." 

"Yes;  he  works  with  his  head,"  growled  Thomas.  "He's 
lazy.  His  head's  full  of  nothin'  but  what  he  gits  from  a  book." 


ABRAHAM'S  WORLD  EXPANDS     73 

"Now  that  Abe's  got  a  taste  of  reading  he  reminds  me  of  the 
old  hog,  Uncle  Thomas,"  laughed  Dennis  Hanks.  "We  had  to 
pull  the  sow's  ears  to  git  her  to  the  trough,  and  then  pull  her 
tail  to  git  her  away." 

"He's  a  good  boy,"  reiterated  Mrs.  Lincoln.  "And  so  long 
as  he  don't  neglect  his  work  I  don't  see  why  he  shouldn't  be 
let  read.  He  might  be  in  worse  mischief." 

So  the  good  woman  took  up  for  him.  Through  her  influence 
he  was  permitted  to  read  Sundays  when  there  was  no  meet- 
ing. It  became  the  usual  thing  to  see  Abraham  when  he  re- 
turned from  work  get  a  piece  of  corn  bread,  take  a  book,  and 
sit  down  to  read  even  while  eating.  He  carried  a  book  with 
him  to  the  fields,  and  whenever  he  had  a  chance  would  fling 
himself  flat  on  the  ground  and  read. 

It  was  fully  two  years  after  Master  Dorsey's  school  before 
another  teacher  came  to  the  little  log  school  house.  Then  came 
Andrew  Crawford,  bringing  with  him  many  new  ways.  For 
Master  Crawford  taught  manners  as  well  as  reading,  writing, 
and  arithmetic.  One  of  the  pupils  was  required  to  retire,  and 
then  to  re-enter  the  room  as  a  polite  gentleman  is  supposed  to 
enter  a  drawing-room.  He  was  received  at  the  door  by  another 
pupil  and  conducted  from  bench  to  bench  until  he  had  been 
introduced  to  all  the  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the  room. 
Abe  went  through  the  ordeal  many  times,  but  it  tickled  his 
sense  of  humor,  and  he  and  the  boys  and  girls  got  a  lot  of 
fun  out  of  it.  Incidentally  it  majr  be  said  that  it  was  his  only 
training  in  the  usages  of  polite  society. 

Master  Crawford  also  made  a  point  of  spelling,  indulging 
in  spelling  matches,  as  his  predecessor  had  done.  As  in  the 
former  school  Abe  soon  became  the  acknowledged  leader  in 
the  exercise.  So  much  so  that  whichever  side  chose  him  was 


74  LINCOLN 

always  sure  to  win  the  match.  As  a  consequence  Mr.  Crawford 
frequently  had  matches  from  which  he  was  excluded,  sometimes 
turning  him  out  of  doors  lest  he  should  give  aid  to  the  other 
pupils. 

One  day  such  a  class  was  in  progress  when  the  teacher  gave 
out  the  word  "defied."  Several  spelled  it  d-e-f-y-e-d,  and  then 
it  came  to  Katy  Roby  who  was  a  favorite  with  Abraham.  She 
began  d-e-f,  and  was  just  about  to  say  "y"  when  she  glanced 
at  Abe  who  was  watching  her  closely.  He  was  smiling  broadly, 
and  slyly  pointed  his  finger  to  his  eye.  Quickly  the  girl  took 
the  hint,  and  spelled  the  word  correctly  with  an  "i."  And  Mas- 
ter Crawford  never  knew  that  Katy  had  had  any  assistance. 

It  was  while  going  to  this  school  that  Abe  composed  many 
rhymes  and  verses.  One  of  his  rhymes  was  as  follows : 

"Good  boys  who  to  their  books  apply 
Will  all  be  great  men  by  and  by." 

He  stood  alone  in  trying  to  turn  his  writing  lessons  into 
compositions.  He  took  this  up  of  his  own  accord,  induced  by  a 
passion  for  justice.  In  fact,  two  great  passions — one  for  jus- 
tice, the  other  for  knowledge — were  ever  present  and  prevail- 
ing throughout  his  whole  life. 

The  woodland  ponds  were  full  of  turtles  which,  as  Spring 
approached,  awakened  to  life,  and  wandered  about  in  the 
balmy  air.  It  was  the  habit  of  some  of  the  boys  to  catch  a  ter- 
rapin and  put  a  live  coal  on  its  back,  and  then  to  laugh  at  the 
animal's  misery  as  it  tried  to  reach  its  home  in  the  water.  It 
was  a  cruel  sport,  and  it  aroused  the  boy's  indignation.  He 
liked  fun,  but  he  had  a  tender  heart,  a  horror  of  cruelty,  and 
could  feel  no  pleasure  in  anything  that  would  give  pain  to  any 
creature.  So  he  remonstrated  with  the  young  savages,  telling 


ABRAHAM'S  WORLD  EXPANDS     75 

them  that  such  an  act  was  contemptible,  cruel,  and  wicked. 
One  of  the  boys  took  exception  to  his  "meddling,"  as  he 
called  it. 

"Ah,  who  air  you?"  he  called  to  Abe  jeeringly  at  one  of 
the  recesses  when  the  latter  had  tried  to  stop  the  fellows  from 
indulging  in  their  favorite  sport.  "What  right  have  you  to 
tell  us  what  to  do,  and  what  we  ought  not  to  do?  You  ain't 
the  teacher." 

Abe  turned  and  looked  at  him.  He  was  a  lanky  wiry  fellow 
older  than  himself,  though  not  so  tall. 

"No,"  he  replied  in  his  slow  way,  "I  ain't  the  teacher;  but 
I  know  that  it  ain't  right  to  make  animals  suffer  just  because  we 
air  stronger  and  can  do  it.  It's  downright  wicked  to  put  coals 
of  fire  on  their  backs  for  fun.  There  ain't  no  fun  in  it,  and  no- 
body but  a  coward  would  do  it.  You  all  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourselves." 

The  lad  straightened  up  defiantly. 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  treat  a  turtle,  or  any  other  animal,  just 
as  I  please,  old  Longshanks.  And  there  ain't  anybody  going  to 
keep  me  from  it.  So  what  air  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

Just  as  he  ceased  speaking  a  turtle  came  crawling  into  the 
clearing  about  the  school,  its  head  protruding  from  its  shell, 
and  its  tail  moving  to  and  fro. 

With  a  whoop  the  boy  seized  it,  swung  it  rapidly  round  and 
round,  then  let  it  go.  The  poor  creature  fell  just  in  front  of 
Abraham,  crushed  against  a  stone,  and  lay  writhing  in  pain. 

Abe's  eyes  flashed.  In  an  instant  he  was  at  the  fellow, 
knocked  him  down,  and  pummeled  him  with  vigorous  blows. 
The  other  boy  fought  like  a  tiger,  and  the  two  rolled  over  and 
over  on  the  ground.  The  ring  of  boys  which  had  formed  around 
the  combatants  became  silent  as  the  fight  became  grim  earnest. 


76  LINCOLN 

They  realized  that  the  affair  was  more  serious  than  an  ordinary 
wrestling  match. 

At  length  Abe  succeeded  in  landing  a  blow  that  knocked  the 
breath  out  of  the  boy  so  that  he  lay  still. 

"Nuff,"  he  gasped  as  soon  as  he  could  speak.  And  then  as 
Abe  rose  to  his  feet,  he  whimpered:  "You've  hurt  my  back." 

"Serves  you  right,"  retorted  Abe.  "Maybe  you'll  know  how 
that  turtle  feels  with  a  crushed  back.  Now,  boys,"  turning  to 
the  others,  "I  don't  like  to  fight,  as  you  know;  but  Bill  needed 
that  licking  the  worst  way.  It  was  wicked  to  treat  that  poor 
turtle  as  he  did.  Any  boy  that  does  that  will  have  me  to  fight 
every  time.  Just  because  we  can  do  it  is  no  reason  for  torturing 
dumb  creatures  that  can't  help  themselves." 

Gradually  the  boys  were  brought  round  to  his  view,  and  the 
practice  ceased.  After  this  he  wrote  short  sentences  on  Cruelty 
to  Animals,  and  these  grew  until  at  length  he  came  forward 
with  a  regular  composition  on  the  subject. 

And  then  his  soul  took  fire  to  express  himself  by  the  writ- 
ten word.  But  paper  was  scarce,  and  he  could  not  afford  to 
waste  any  upon  original  compositions.  Necessity  has  ever  been 
the  mother  of  invention,  and  if  paper  could  not  be  had  there 
was  plenty  of  wood.  So  daytimes  he  wrote  and  ciphered  on 
shingles  and  boards  out  of  doors,  with  a  piece  of  charcoal  for 
a  crayon.  At  night  he  used  the  great  wooden  fire  shovel  that 
stood  by  the  chimney.  This  was  a  broad  clapboard  with  one  end 
narrowed  to  a  handle,  and  its  whole  face  could  be  covered  with 
figures  and  letters.  When  its  surface  was  full  it  could  be 
shaved  clean  with  his  father's  "drawing-knife."  In  this  manner, 
night  after  night,  the  boy  studied  by  the  light  of  the  fire  in  a 
determination  to  learn  that  was  sublime. 

His  passion  for  knowledge  grew  by  what  it  fed  on.  Robinson 


ABRAHAM'S  WORLD  EXPANDS  77 

Crusoe  was  the  next  book  borrowed,  and  this  was  followed  by 
a  History  of  the  United  States.  Then  came  Sinbad  the  Sailor. 
He  read  every  book  that  he  could  lay  his  hands  on.  Everything 
was  grist  that  came  to  his  mill.  When  he  came  to  a  passage 
that  struck  him  he  would  write  it  down  on  boards,  if  he  had  no 
paper,  and  keep  it  until  he  did  get  some  paper.  Then  he  would 
copy  it,  look  at  it,  commit  it  to  memory,  and  repeat  it.  He 
had  a  blank  book,  a  scrap  book,  one  of  his  treasures,  in  which 
he  put  down  things  he  wished  to  preserve.  Some  of  these  were 
original  essays,  but  it  was  mostly  filled  with  extracts  from  the 
books  that  he  borrowed. 

There  were  some  books  that  could  not  be  borrowed,  and  these 
he  read  at  the  owner's  fireside.  And  then  there  moved  into  the 
neighborhood  a  man  by  the  name  of  Josiah  Crawford,  no  re- 
lation of  Andrew  Crawford,  the  teacher.  Josiah  employed 
Thomas  Lincoln  to  finish  his  new  house  for  him,  and  Abraham 
helped  his  father.  The  old  fellow  had  a  number  of  books,  and 
Abe  was  delighted  when  he  let  him  take  home  a  copy  of 
Weems's  "Life  of  Washington." 

Of  course  he  knew  about  George  Washington.  The  History 
of  the  United  States  had  told  him  much,  and  the  settlers  were 
full  of  stories  about  his  life  and  character.  Weems  treated  his 
subject  with  enthusiasm  and  a  great  deal  of  very  sincere  pa- 
triotism, and  Abraham  was  enthralled  with  the  book.  He 
pored  over  the  volume  with  great  earnestness,  frequently  tak- 
ing it  to  bed  with  him  at  night,  and  placing  it  between  the  logs 
of  the  cabin  so  that  he  could  get  it  as  soon  as  there  was  light 
enough  to  read  by.  But  alas !  there  came  a  night  of  storm,  and 
the  wind  drove  the  rain  through  the  cracks  between  the  logs, 
made  by  the  falling  out  of  the  mud  chinking.  In  the  morning, 
to  the  boy's  dismay,  he  found  the  precious  volume  was  soaked 


78  LINCOLN 

through  and  through.   He  dried  the  leaves  carefully  in  the 
sun,  and  then  carried  the  book  home. 

"Mr.  Crawford,"  he  began  falteringly.  "I'm  sorry,  but  I 
reckon  I've  ruined  this  book." 

"How  did  it  come,  Abraham?"  demanded  the  crusty  old 
fellow  taking  the  book,  and  examining  it  thoroughly. 

Abraham  told  him. 

''  'Pears  like  if  I'm  good  enough  to  let  you  have  my  books 
you  ought  to  take  care  of  them.  Yes;  I  reckon  the  book's 
ruined,  and  I  don't  know  where  I'll  come  by  another.  Such 
books  are  hard  to  get.  You  ought  to  pay  for  it." 

"But  I  have  no  money,"  confessed  poor  Abe  who  had  never 
owned  a  penny  in  his  life. 

"How  about  working  it  out?"  suggested  Josiah. 

Abraham  brightened  up.  "Why,  I'd  be  glad  to  do  that,  Mr. 
Crawford.  What  would  you  like  me  to  do  ?" 

"Well,  that  book's  worth  seventy-five  cents,  Abe.  Now  I'll 
tell  ye  what  I'll  do:  I  have  a  field  of  fodder  that  needs  pulling. 
You  come  and  pull  fodder  for  me  for  three  days,  and  I'll  call 
it  square." 

Now  Abe  wanted  to  pay  for  the  book.  He  knew  that  it  was 
right  that  he  should  do  so,  but  a  day's  work  extended  from 
sunrise  to  sunset,  and  three  days  of  such  labor  was  a  high  price 
to  demand  of  a  boy.  There  was  no  help  for  it,  however,  so  he 
pulled  fodder  three  days;  and  he  pulled  the  field  clean.  Not  a 
stalk  of  fodder  was  left  standing  in  the  field.  His  sense  of 
honor  made  him  do  his  work  well,  but  his  sense  of  justice  was 
outraged.  He  knew  that  Crawford  had  taken  advantage  of  the 
fact  that  he  could  not  help  himself. 

But  there  was  one  compensating  fact.  He  became  the  owner 
of  the  book. 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

THE   END   OF    SCHOOL   DAYS 

The  incident  of  the  ruined  volume  of  "Life  of  Washing- 
ton" did  not  deter  Abraham  from  borrowing  other  books. 
Indeed,  so  great  was  his  hunger  for  them,  he  could  no  more 
have  kept  from  borrowing  them  than  he  could  help  living. 
His  mind  was  awake  and  craved  intellectual  food.  Books  were 
scarce  in  southern  Indiana;  there  was  no  way  to  get  them  ex- 
cept by  borrowing.  And  borrow  he  did,  right  and  left,  even 
from  old  Josiah  Crawford  himself.  So  relentless  was  he  in 
his  search  for  knowledge  that  he  would  walk  many  miles  to 
get  a  book  of  which  he  had  heard.  In  this  manner,  as  time  went 
by,  he  read  every  book  within  a  circle  of  fifty  miles. 

"Whatever  do  you  find  in  'em,  Abe?"  queried  Dennis  Hanks 
joining  the  lad  one  evening  as  he  sat  on  the  doorstep  reading 
in  the  twilight. 

Abe  looked  up,  and,  keeping  his  finger  inside  to  mark  his 
place,  closed  the  book,  and  thought  a  moment  before  answer- 
ing. 

"Well,  Den,  I  find  out  about  things,"  he  said  at  length. 
"Now  take  this  here  book.  It's  a  dictionary;  that's  a  book  about 
words.  It  tells  what  they  mean.  It  always  did  make  me  mad  to 

79 


80  LINCOLN 

hear  folks  use  words  that  I  didn't  know  what  they  meant.  Even 
when  I  was  a  little  shaver  whenever  I'd  hear  folks  talk  about 
something  I  didn't  understand  I'd  puzzle  over  it,  and  puzzle 
over  it.  I'd  walk  the  floor  until  I  found  out  what  they  meant. 
Then  I'd  try  to  put  it  into  words  a  boy  could  understand.  I'm 
studying  this  book  so  I'll  know  words." 

"Shucks!"  said  Dennis  taking  the  volume  and  turning  its 
leaves  awkwardly.  "This  don't  larn  you  nothin',  Abe.  Why, 
there's  jest  strings  of  words  up  and  down  the  pages!  They 
don't  larn  you  anything  about  plowin'  a  furrow,  or  plantin', 
or  hoein'.  Them's  the  things  you  ought  to  be  larnin'  about." 

"I  know  'em  already,  Den.  And  I  git  plenty  of  practice  in 
'em  too.  But  I  want  to  know  something  besides.  I  want  to 
find  out  what  makes  men  great." 

"There's  somethin'  mighty  peculiarsome  about  you,  Abe," 
remarked  Dennis  shaking  his  head.  "What  you  want  to  set, 
day  after  day,  a-readin'  that  stuff  for  till  the  last  bit  of  light 
goes  outen  the  sky,  is  more'n  I  can  see.  But  every  feller  to 
his  taste,  as  the  old  woman  said  when  she  kissed  the  cow.  So 
here's  your  book.  Say!  there's  goin'  to  be  a  frolic  down  to 
Grigsby's  tomorrow  night,  an'  we  want  you  to  go  along.  Will 
you?" 

"Why,  of  course,"  answered  Abe  quickly.  He  loved  fun,  and 
anything  that  called  the  great  sociability  of  his  nature  into  play 
was  always  welcome.  For  this  reason  he  liked  going  to  the  mill. 
He  could  meet  with  new  people  there  and  get  fresh  news  and 
fresh  views  of  men  and  things  in  general.  "Who's  going?" 

"All  us  young  folks.  Uncle  Thomas  said  that  we  could  have 
the  wagon  and  hosses  to  go  if  we  got  the  hay  all  in  tomorrow. 
Jack  Johnston  and  me  asked  him.  And  say!"  with  some  em- 
barrassment, "couldn't  you  drive,  and  kinda  see  that  Jack,  an' 


THE  END  OF  SCHOOL  DAYS  81 

Tilly,  an'  your  sister  Sally'll  leave  the  back  seat  for  me  an' 
Sairy  Johnston  to  set  on?" 

"I'll  see  to  it,  Den,"  laughed  Abraham.  "It  looks  mighty 
like  we  was  going  to  have  a  wedding  in  the  fambly  soon." 

"It's  goin'  to  be  if  I  can  make  it  so,"  answered  Dennis,  seri- 
ously. "I  ain't  said  nothin'  yet,  but  I'm  goin'  to  soon.  But 
talkin'  of  weddin's !  There's  goin'  to  be  one  in  the  fambly  soon, 
all  right." 

"Whose?"  asked  the  boy  idly. 

"Why,  your  sister  Sally's,  of  course.  Hain't  you  noticed 
how  Aaron  Grigs  by 's  a-shin'in  up  to  her?  Good  land,  boy!  any- 
body with  half  an  eye  could  see  what  he's  up  to." 

Abraham  sat  up  very  straight.  "Sally?  My  sister  Sally,"  he 
gasped. 

"Yes ;  your  sister  Sally,"  mocked  Dennis  with  a  great  laugh. 
"If  you  didn't  have  your  head  stuck  inside  a  book  all  the  time 
you'd  have  seen  it  too.  Jest  keep  your  eyes  open  at  the  frolic 
tomorrow  night." 

He  laughed  again  as  he  went  into  the  house.  Abraham  read 
no  more.  The  long  shadows  of  evening  gathered  under  the 
great  trees  which  pushed  their  trunks  in  stately  columns  heav- 
enward. The  twilight  faded.  The  stars  came  out.  A  whip-poor- 
will  sounded  his  plaintive  notes  in  a  near-by  tree,  and  never 
had  they  seemed  so  mournful.  A  stillness  brooded  over  the 
cabin  as  the  family  retired  to  rest.  Still  the  boy  sat  thinking. 
His  father's  voice  aroused  him: 

"Abe,  go  to  bed.  You've  got  to  git  up  airly  tomorrow  if  ye 
git  all  the  hay  in." 

Always  obedient  to  his  father's  command  Abraham  rose 
slowly,  went  into  the  cabin,  and  quietly  climbed  the  pegs  in  the 
corner  to  his  loft. 


82  LINCOLN 

It  had  been  a  hard  day  in  the  fields,  but  he  lay  wide  awake 
far  into  the  night.  Sally!  his  sister  Sally  to  marry!  They  had 
always  been  very  close  to  each  other,  and  now  to  lose  her!  He 
knew  that  she  was  a  great  favorite  in  the  settlement;  she  was 
so  kind,  and  modest,  and  had  such  a  pleasant  way  about  her. 
She  was  industrious  too,  a  thing  that  counted  greatly  in  a  rural 
community.  Overwhelmed  by  a  sense  of  coming  loss,  the  sensi- 
tive boy  lay,  brooding.  Suddenly  a  consoling  thought  came  to 
him.  Dennis  was  an  old  gossip  who  always  was  sure  that  every 
boy  and  girl  who  went  together  a  few  times  were  going  to  get 
married.  He  was  sure  that  Sally  would  have  told  him  had  there 
been  anything  to  the  matter.  And  thus  comforting  himself  the 
lad  fell  asleep. 

Nevertheless  he  kept  his  eyes  open  at  the  frolic  the  next 
evening,  as  Dennis  had  told  him  to  do.  All  through  the  games, 
"Happy  Is  the  Miller  When  the  Mill  Goes  Round,"  "Thus 
the  Farmer  Sows  His  Seed,"  "Sail  Around,"  and  "Skip-to-my- 
Lou,"  he  watched  Sally  and  Aaron  Grigsby.  What  he  saw 
convinced  him  that  Dennis  had  spoken  the  truth.  The  boy  had  a 
bad  quarter  of  an  hour  when  he  realized  the  fact,  but  his  un- 
selfishness came  to  the  surface  as  he  saw  Sally's  bright  face, 
and  noted  her  happy  manner.  Like  himself  Sally  had  had  a 
hard  life.  She  too  had  worked  out  among  the  neighbors,  and 
toiled  at  home.  Aaron  Grigsby  belonged  to  a  well-to-do  family. 
Perhaps  after  all  it  would  be  best  for  Sally.  And  having  come 
to  this  conclusion  Abraham  shook  off  his  melancholy,  and  be- 
came the  gayest  of  the  gay. 

There  was  little  opportunity  for  courtship  for  Sally,  how- 
ever, or  any  one  else  in  the  busy  days  that  followed.  Mr.  Josiah 
Crawford,  who  was  a  wheelwright,  making  not  only  wagon 
wheels  but  big  and  little  spinning  wheels,  frequently  needed 


THE  END  OF  SCHOOL  DAYS  83 

help  about  his  farm  work.  He  came  one  day  to  the  Lincoln 
farm,  saying  that  both  he  and  his  wife  were  in  need  of  labor. 
Would  Mr.  Lincoln  let  him  have  Sally  and  Abraham  to  help 
them  out?  Thomas  Lincoln  was  always  willing  to  let  his  son 
and  daughter  hire  out  to  the  neighbors,  and  welcomed  the 
money  they  could  earn  by  so  doing.  So  brother  and  sister  went 
to  the  Crawford  place,  the  one  as  hired  man;  the  other  as 
maid-of -all-work. 

Abe  was  to  be  paid  twenty-five  cents  a  day  for  his  work,  but 
his  crabbed  employer  often  docked  these  small  wages  if  he 
caught  him  idling  a  few  moments  from  steady  work.  As  has 
already  been  said,  Mr.  Crawford  possessed  a  number  of  books, 
and  the  boy  was  willing  to  endure  almost  anything  in  order 
to  read.  According  to  his  usual  custom,  therefore,  he  read  these 
books  through  time  and  again. 

One  of  the  books  was  "The  Kentucky  Preceptor,"  a  book 
containing  selections  of  poetry  and  prose  filled  with  lofty 
sentiments.  There  were  orations  on  patriotism,  articles  on  the 
virtues,  stories  of  great  deeds  of  men,  tales  of  sacrifices  for 
freedom,  of  hatred  of  tyrants,  and  of  contempt  for  mean  ac- 
tions. Strong  food  for  a  young  mind,  well  calculated  to  stimu- 
late the  faculties  to  solemn  and  elevated  thinking. 

Abraham  had  cultivated  his  memory  to  retain  page  after 
page  of  prose  and  verse;  so  now  he  memorized  the  selections 
that  pleased  him.  He  learned  too  from  this  book  the  art  of 
making  rhymes,  and  wrote  many  thereafter.  In  fact,  so  pro- 
ficient did  he  become  that  he  made  quite  a  local  reputation  for 
himself  as  a  rhymester. 

"Do  ye  keep  yer  thinking-cap  in  your  lip,  Abraham?"  ban- 
tered Mr.  Crawford  one  evening  as  the  lad  lay  on  the  floor 
reading. 


84  LINCOLN 

The  boy  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth  sheepishly.  He  had  fallen 
into  the  habit  of  sticking  out  his  lower  lip,  on  the  left  side,  when 
his  mind  was  concentrated  in  reading  or  thinking.  A  habit 
which  resulted  in  that  "protuberance  of  the  lower  lip  which  be- 
came a  distinguishing  characteristic  of  his  face"  in  later  life. 

"Does  it  stick  out  much,  Uncle  Josiah?"  he  asked.  He  had 
grown  to  call  his  employer  so. 

Josiah  Crawford  laughed. 

"Well,  yes;  it  does,  Abe.  But  if  it  helps  you  to  think,  I  don't 
reckon  it  matters." 

Abraham  had  become  a  great  favorite  with  both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Crawford.  The  latter  was  wont  to  remark  that  he  was 
a  well-mannered  lad  who  always  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed  when 
he  made  his  appearance,  and  that  he  never  came  where  he  was 
not  wanted.  But  in  spite  of  her  liking  for  him  he  sometimes 
worried  the  good  woman  almost  beyond  endurance  by  the  fun 
and  uproar  he  created  in  her  kitchen. 

"Abe  Lincoln,  what  on  earth  is  ever  going  to  become  of 
you?"  she  exclaimed  on  one  such  occasion.  "What'll  you  be 
good  for  if  you  keep  a  cutting  up  like  this?" 

Abraham  gazed  at  her  thoughtfully  for  a  moment. 

"Well,"  he  responded  slowly,  "I  reckon  I'm  going  to  be 
President  one  of  these  days." 

The  good  woman  laughed  loudly  as  the  extravagant  expres- 
sion fell  from  the  boy's  lips. 

"You're  about  as  likely  to  be  President  as  I  am,"  she  re- 
torted. "Go  on!  you're  upsetting  everything  with  your  fun." 

"I  reckon  I'd  better,"  laughed  Abraham  making  for  the 
door.  "This  won't  buy  the  child  a  coat." 

There  were  other  occasions  when  there  came  expressions 
from  his  lips  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  felt  that  there 


THE  END  OF  SCHOOL  DAYS  85 

was  a  great  work  for  him  to  do  somewhere  in  the  future.  It  is 
certain  that  he  was  filled  with  vague  haunting  aspirations  after 
something  better  and  larger  than  he  had  known.  And  too  he 
had  the  early  American  ideal  that  if  a  boy  is  upright  and  in- 
dustrious he  may  aspire  to  any  place  within  the  gift  of  the 
country. 

Sally's  term  of  service  with  the  Crawfords  terminated  before 
Abraham's,  but  at  length  he  too  went  back  to  the  cabin.  As  the 
Crawfords  were  considered  well-to-do  people  the  boys  and 
girls  of  the  Lincoln  household  were  curious  as  to  how  they  lived. 
Matilda  Johnston  was  especially  so. 

"What  do  they  have  to  eat,  Abe?"  she  questioned  one  day. 
"I  s'pose  you  had  a  Sunday  dinner  every  day?" 

"Well,  no,"  answered  Abe  laughing.  "Most  of  the  time  it 
was  corn-pone  and  common  doin's,  jest  like  we  have.  When 
there  was  company  we  had  white  bread  and  chicken  fixin's." 

When  the  days  grew  shorter  and  the  night  frosts  began  to 
give  tone  to  the  atmosphere  there  was  much  bustle  and  stir  in 
the  cabin.  There  came  a  day  when  a  large  company  gathered  to 
see  Sally  Lincoln  married  to  Aaron  Grigsby.  In  a  backwoods 
community  a  wedding  or  a  funeral  is  a  great  event;  so  it  was 
a  merry  occasion;  the  merriest  the  Lincoln  cabin  had  ever 
known.  Abraham  smothered  his  feelings,  and  composed  a  poem 
in  honor  of  the  event  which  the  family  fitted  to  a  tune  and 
sang.  Sally  went  to  live  with  her  husband  in  a  house  that  was 
not  so  far  away  but  that  Abe  could  visit  her  often,  and  he 
found  consolation  for  his  grief  at  her  departure  in  that  fact. 
Life  had  taught  Abraham  many  hard  lessons:  he  learned  now 
that  a  marriage  may  bring  a  loss  as  great  as  that  brought  by 
Death. 

It  seems  a  truism  that  one  wedding  makes  many.  Sally's 


86  LINCOLN 

marriage  was  quickly  followed  by  that  of  Dennis  Hanks  and 
Sarah  Johnston,  Mrs.  Lincoln's  older  daughter.  They  removed 
to  a  cabin  near  the  village  of  Gentryville  which  had  sprung  into 
existence  at  the  crossroads  near  the  meeting-house.  Sometime 
later,  to  anticipate  a  little,  Matilda  Johnston  was  married  to 
Levi  Hall. 

The  cabin  had  been  so  filled  with  merriment  when  all  the 
young  people  were  there  that  a  sort  of  blank  desolation  came 
over  Abraham  at  its  emptiness.  His  stepmother  noticed  his 
melancholy  and  sought  for  something  to  alleviate  it.  She  came 
home  from  a  visit  to  Tilly's  one  day  with  great  news.  She 
could  hardly  wait  to  tell   it. 

"Abe,"  she  cried  as  her  stepson  came  to  help  her  dismount 
from  her  horse,  "Mr.  Swazey  is  going  to  set  up' a  school  at  his 
house  the  other  side  of  the  village.  It  starts  next  week." 

"Mother,  do  you  think  that  I'll  be  able  to  go?"  he  asked 
eagerly. 

"I  want  that  you  should  for  several  reasons.  I'll  have  to  talk 
to  your  father  about  it  though.  But  it's  four  and  a  half  miles 
to  Mr.  Swazey's  house!  That'll  mean  nine  miles  to  walk  to  and 
from  school." 

"Shucks!  what's  nine  miles  to  a  feller  with  long  legs  like 
mine,  mother?  I  wouldn't  mind  the  walk  at  all;  if  only  pa  will 
let  me  go." 

Thomas  Lincoln  demurred  as  usual,  but  his  wife  was  insist- 
ent. She  had  seen  how  animated  Abraham  had  become  at  the 
prospect,  and  she  determined  that  he  should  go. 

"There's  only  the  two  now,  Thomas,"  she  pleaded.  "John 
and  Abe.  We  can  manage  it  someway." 

As  usual  she  had  her  way.  Knowing  that  this  was  probably 
his  last  school  Abraham  made  the  most  of  his  opportunity.  He 


THE  END  OF  SCHOOL  DAYS  87 

rose  early  and  attended  to  the  chores  before  starting.  Despite 
the  distance  he  was  always  there  before  any  one  else,  using  the 
time  of  waiting  for  study.  As  in  the  schools  under  Masters 
Dorsey  and  Crawford  he  soon  surpassed  his  fellows,  and  was 
considered  the  prize  pupil  by  his  teacher. 

He  wrote  a  neat,  legible  hand  which  excited  the  admiration 
of  other  and  younger  boys  so  that  they  had  him  frequently  to 
set  copies  for  them.  Indeed,  he  was  considered  the  best  pen- 
man in  the  settlement. 

He  was  quick  at  figures  too,  and  able  to  solve  any  problem 
not  going  beyond  the  "Rule  of  Three."  There  was  but  one 
arithmetic  in  the  school — the  one  owned  by  the  teacher — so 
Abraham  made  one  for  himself  from  foolscap  paper  which  he 
called  "Book  of  Examples  in  Arithmetic."  In  it  he  entered  a 
definition  of  "Discount,  Rules  for  its  Computation;  Proofs  and 
Various  Examples,  worked  out  in  figures.  A  Table  of  Weights 
and  Measures,  and  sums  to  be  worked  in  Illustration."  And 
on  one  of  the  fly-leaves  he  scrawled  these  four  lines  of  school- 
boy doggerel: 

"Abraham  Lincoln, 
His  hand  and  pen, 
He  will  be  good, 
But  God  knows  when." 

Such  a  leader  had  he  become  among  his  fellows  that  he  was 
always  chosen  to  adjust  difficulties  between  boys  of  his  age 
and  size,  and  so  well  known  was  his  fairness,  his  passion  for 
justice,  that  when  appealed  to  his  decision  was  the  end  of  the 
trouble. 

In  this  school  he  learned  the  first  principles  of  debating. 
The  born  orator  that  was  in  him  was  coming  to  the  surface 


88  LINCOLN 

and  fed  on  the  material  at  hand.  When  at  church  he  noted  the 
oddities  of  the  preachers  and  afterward  mimicked  them,  both 
from  a  love  of  fun  and  because  of  his  fondness  for  oratory,  and 
this  was  the  only  kind  of  oratory  he  knew  anything  about.  So 
now,  as  the  pupils  discussed  the  Relative  Merits  of  the  Bee  and 
the  Ant — The  Difference  in  Strength  between  Wind  and  Wa- 
ter— and  the  important  question — Which  has  the  most  right 
to  complain,  the  Indian  or  the  Negro? — the  boy  entered  into 
the  discussions  enthusiastically. 

In  the  midst  of  the  term  his  father  became  restive  under 
Abe's  attendance.  He  regarded  it  as  a  waste  of  time  for  his 
tall  son  to  walk  nine  miles  a  day  to  and  from  school  in  search 
of  knowledge,  and  took  him  out  forthwith. 

"You've  had  schooling  enough,  Abe,"  he  said.  "They  say 
in  the  village  that  you  can  read,  write,  and  cipher.  That's 
larnin'  enough  for  anybody.  They  say  you're  smart;  but  it 
looks  powerfully  like  laziness  to  me  for  a  strong,  husky  lad 
like  you  to  set  all  day  long  with  a  book  in  his  hand.  I  want  you 
to  settle  down  now,  and  be  a  carpenter.  When  you  are  not 
workin'  at  that  you  can  aim  something  at  the  farms  hereabouts. 
But  no  more  school.  I  don't  care  how  much  your  mother  teases." 

So,  much  to  his  distress,  poor  Abe's  schooldays  came  to  an 
end.  All  in  all  his  total  schooling  amounted  to  much  less  than 
a  year.  But  Abraham  Lincoln  was  doing  for  himself  more 
than  schools  could  do  for  him.  For  what,  after  all,  is  education  ? 
"It  is  determined  by  what  a  student  does.  A  single  subject 
which  has  been  pursued  in  such  a  way  that  he  has  learned  to 
stand  on  his  own  feet,  and  use  his  own  mind  in  the  getting  and 
solving  of  its  problems  provides  a  more  real  education  than  a 
whole  college  course  in  which  one  has  merely  endeavored  to 
appropriate  the  thoughts  of  other  men,  or  tried  to  become  a 


THE  END  OF  SCHOOL  DAYS  89 

thinker  without  thinking  about  anything  which  seemed  to  re- 
quire thought."  1 

And  Abraham  Lincoln  had  made  everything  he  studied  or 
read  his  own,  a  part  of  himself.  Whenever  he  began  to  study 
anything  he  was  not  satisfied  until  he  got  to  the  bottom  of  it. 
He  went  to  the  roots  of  things.  As  the  food  that  he  ate  was 
assimilated  into  muscle,  so  the  books  he  read  were  assimilated 
into  mind. 

Much  as  he  disliked  to  leave  school  he  made  no  protest.  He 
knew  that  the  family  was  miserably  poor  and  needed  what  he 
could  earn;  so  he  helped  his  father  whenever  he  had  work  at 
carpentry,  or  went  as  hired  man  from  farm  to  farm,  when  he 
was  not  needed  at  home,  and  all  unconsciously  prepared  him- 
self for  the  great  work  that  lay  in  the  future.  For  his  life  was 
giving  him  three  things:  a  strong  physique,  the  habit  of  hard 
work,  and  a  knowledge  of  people — for  one  can  become  better 
acquainted  with  men  and  women  by  working  for  them,  or  dick- 
ering about  labor,  than  by  meeting  them  at  social  functions, 
Where  others  might  have  yielded  to  despair  he  found  hope; 
where  others  might  have  grown  cynical  and  bitter  towards  their 
kind,  he  grew  kind  and  loving  of  heart;  where  others  might 
have  degenerated  into  passivity,  he  became  strong,  and  brave, 
and  resolute.  It  was  marvelous  how  the  lad  rose  above  the 
obstacles  that  beset  him,  and  created  his  own  atmosphere. 

His  heart  was  not  in  carpentry  or  farm  labor,  but  his  sturdy 
self-respect  made  him  want  to  give  value  received  for  his 
wages,  and  as  he  could  chop  more  wood,  handle  more  hay,  husk 
more  corn,  and  lift  a  heavier  weight  than  any  other  young 
fellow  in  the  settlement  his  services  were  always  in  demand. 
On  the  whole  Abraham  preferred  to  work  away  from  home  on 

i  Dr.  F.  C.  Moore,  formerly  Professor  of  Education  in  Harvard   University. 


90  LINCOLN 

account  of  meeting  new  people,  and  hearing  the  things  they 
could  tell  him.  Therefore,  he  was  well  pleased  when  his  father 
told  him  one  day  in  the  fall  of  the  year  that  he  was  seventeen 
that  he  had  found  a  job  for  him  at  the  Landing. 

"It's  with  Jim  Taylor  at  Posey's  Landing,  Abe.  You're  to 
git  eight  dollars  a  month  and  keep  for  running  the  Ferry  across 
the  river,  and  doin'  whatever  he  wants  done  about  the  house 
and  farm.  I  call  it  pretty  good." 

"But  how  long  is  he  to  stay,  Thomas?"  questioned  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln. "It  seems  to  me  that  we  have  Abe  with  us  less  and  less 
all  the  time.  I  miss  him." 

"It  ain't  no  time  for  feelings,  Sairy,  when  a  seventeen-year- 
old  boy  can  airn  eight  dollars  a  month  and  keep.  He'll  only  be 
gone  until  spring  anyway.  Then  he'll  come  back  for  the 
plowin'." 

"But  that's  a  long  time,"  protested  she.  "I  should  think 
there'd  be  work  enough  at  home.  He's  too  young  to  be  away 
so  much." 

"Every  tub  has  to  larn  to  set  on  its  own  bottom,"  was 
Mr.  Lincoln's  dry  comment.  "It'll  do  the  boy  good,  and  be- 
sides, Jack  Johnston  and  John  Hanks  can  take  care  of  the 
work  here  until  spring.  It  don't  need  so  many  since  I  sold  off 
that  southwest  eighty." 

John  Hanks  was  another  cousin  who  had  recently  come  from 
Kentucky  to  stay  with  the  Lincolns  for  a  time.  He  was  a 
steadier,  more  industrious  man  than  Dennis,  so  that  Abraham 
could  well  be  spared.  Mrs.  Lincoln  ventured  one  last  protest: 

"He  livens  up  the  place  so  that  I  don't  know  what  I'll  do 
without  him." 

"Never  mind,  mother,"  comforted  Abe  seeing  the  tears  in 


THE  END  OF  SCHOOL  DAYS  91 

her  eyes.  "The  time  will  soon  pass,  and  there  may  be  days 
when  I  can  come  home  for  a  few  hours." 

The  next  morning  the  boy  walked  the  sixteen  miles  to  Po- 
sey's Landing  to  enter  upon  his  new  duties. 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 


A   GLIMPSE   OF   THE   GREAT   WORLD 


Abraham  had  been  to  Posey's  Landing  many  times  since 
he  had  entered  Indiana  with  his  parents  and  sister  ten  years 
previously,  but  now  that  he  was  going  to  reside  in  the  place 
for  several  months,  he  gazed  about  him  with  sharpened  inter- 
est. 

It  was  a  busy  place,  one  at  which  the  steamers  and  river 
craft  frequently  tied  up  for  the  night.  Consequently  quite  a 
settlement  had  sprung  up  on  the  wide  flat  at  the  mouth  of 
Anderson's  Creek.  There  were  trading  houses,  quite  a  few 
dwellings,  a  tavern,  and  a  large  wood-yard  where  the  river 
steamers  took  on  fuel.  With  all  sorts  of  people  coming  and  go- 
ing it  was  a  bustling  spot. 

Among  the  merchants  was  James  Taylor  for  whom  Abra- 
ham was  to  work.  He  operated  a  "bank-store,"  which,  located 
on  the  river  bank,  supplied  both  the  river  trade  and  that  of  the 
farmers. 

Abraham  was  not  to  assist  in  the  store,  however.  That  task 
devolved  upon  Green  Taylor,  Mr.  Taylor's  son,  a  youth  about 
Abraham's  age.  Abraham  was  to  run  the  ferry  across  An- 
derson's Creek  in  addition  to  being  the  man-of-all-work  about 

92 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  GREAT  WORLD       93 

the  house  and  farm.  It  was  Green  Taylor  who  met  him  as  he 
entered  the  house. 

"Come  on  up  stairs,  and  put  up  your  things,"  said  the  lad, 
leading  the  way.  Abraham's  few  belongings  were  carried  in  a 
bundle.  "You  are  to  sleep  in  the  room  with  me." 

To  Abraham's  delight  there  were  a  number  of  books  on 
some  shelves  in  the  sitting  room,  and,  as  he  believed  that  a 
book  was  made  for  the  purpose  of  being  read,  he  turned  ea- 
gerly to  speak  about  them  to  his  companion.  To  his  surprise 
the  other  boy,  who  had  been  looking  him  over  keenly,  broke 
out  with, 

"Want  to  fight?" 

"If  it's  needful,"  responded  Abe  dryly,  eyeing  him  out  of 
the  tail  of  his  eye.  "I've  come  to  do  whatever  I'm  told." 

"I  don't  believe  that  you  could  lick  me,"  spoke  young  Tay- 
lor in  a  challenging  tone.  He  had  heard  of  Abraham's  prowess 
in  bouts,  and  was  itching  for  a  trial  of  strength  with  him. 
"They  say  you  can  whip  anybody  in  the  whole  countryside. 
Have  you  licked  many?" 

"Well,  I've  locked  horns  with  a  few  who  got  their  come- 
uppance," answered  Abraham  briefly. 

"Then  what  do  you  say  we  go  back  of  the  store,  and  see 
which  is  the  better  man?"  proposed  Green.  A  voice  from  the 
door  interrupted  him. 

"Tut,  tut!  what's  all  this?  I  won't  have  any  fighting,  Green. 
Abe's  come  here  to  work,  and  you'll  do  well  to  get  back  to  that 
store  and  'tend  to  business.  Howdy,  Abe!  Glad  to  see  you," 
and  James  Taylor  entered  the  room,  with  outstretched  hand. 
"I'm  powerful  busy,  so  I'll  just  show  you  about  the  Ferry  the 
first  thing.  And  say!  I  want  some  hogs  butchered  today  to 
be  ready  to  ship  tomorrow.  Ever  kill  any?" 


94  LINCOLN 

"No,  Mr.  Taylor;  but  I'm  like  the  Irishman  with  the  fiddle. 
When  asked  if  he  had  ever  played  one,  he  said:  'No;  but  if 
you'll  risk  your  fiddle,  I'll  try  it.'  So,  if  you're  willing  to  risk 
your  hogs  I'll  tackle  the  job." 

"I  reckon  we'll  let  it  go  that  way,  Abe,"  said  Mr.  Taylor 
laughing. 

Late  that  afternoon  as  Abraham  caught  up  the  two  hundred 
pound  carcass  of  a  hog,  and  easily  lifted  it  to  a  hook  higher 
than  his  head,  he  found  Green  Taylor  watching  him  in  open- 
mouthed  amazement. 

"Want  to  fight?"  he  asked  with  twinkling  eyes. 

"No,"  answered  young  Taylor  emphatically.  "I  don't.  Why, 
you  could  wipe  up  the  earth  with  me.  Jiminy  Cricketts!  but 
you're  strong!" 

Abe  soon  found  that  there  was  plenty  for  him  to  do,  and 
that  of  the  roughest  sort  of  work  a  young  fellow  could  be  made 
to  do.  And  there  was  the  ferry.  The  skill  that  it  took  to  scull 
across  the  Creek  depended  upon  the  condition  of  the  river. 
The  Creek  itself  flowed  down  to  the  Ohio  River  between  high 
banks,  and  if  the  water  was  high  it  was  no  small  feat  to  make  a 
good  landing. 

But  if  there  was  much  work  there  were  compensations.  First, 
there  were  the  books.  These  he  read,  according  to  his  usual 
custom,  over  and  over,  reading  sometimes  far  into  the  night. 
Among  them  were  the  Lives  of  Benjamin  Franklin  and  Henry 
Clay.  The  latter  became  an  idol  of  his  forthwith. 

And  then  there  was  the  life  of  the  river:  the  contact  with 
people  of  all  sorts  who  were  constantly  passing  up  and  down 
stream,  and  the  new  ideas  he  picked  up  from  them.  He  liked  it 
all,  and  there  grew  in  him  a  longing  to  see  for  himself  the 
places  about  which  these  people  told  him. 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  GREAT  WORLD       95 

Nature  had  played  no  small  part  in  the  moulding  of  Abra- 
ham. The  strength  of  the  Kentucky  hills  had  entered  into  him 
in  childhood.  The  vast  wilderness  of  Indiana  had  taught  him 
its  mysteries.  Now  a  majestic  river  was  to  take  part  in  his  de- 
velopment. He  learned  to  know  it  in  all  its  moods  and  phases. 
He  saw  it  by  moonlight  and  starshine;  in  sunshine  and  in 
shadow,  and  he  learned  to  know  why  it  had  been  called  Ohio — 
"The  Beautiful,"  by  the  Indians,  the  French  and  the  English. 
And  ever  it  called  to  him  alluringly,  telling  him  of  the  great 
Mississippi,  of  cities  on  its  banks,  and  of  a  different  people  to 
the  Southward. 

When  Spring  came,  and  he  had  to  return  to  his  father's 
farm,  he  carried  back  a  great  idea:  why  couldn't  they  raise 
enough  produce  at  the  farm  for  him  to  build  a  boat,  and  take 
it  down  to  New  Orleans  to  sell? 

"It  ain't  a  bad  idee,"  was  his  father's  comment.  "I'll  mull  it 
over  for  a  while." 

"But  I  won't  have  it,"  protested  Mrs.  Lincoln,  vehemently. 
"It's  a  long  way  to  New  Orleans.  Abraham  has  had  only  the 
experience  at  the  landing  with  boats,  and  'twould  be  dangerous 
for  him  to  make  such  a  long  trip  alone.  There's  no  telling  what 
might  happen." 

"The  boy's  dependable  enough,  Sairy,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln. 
"The  worst  feature  of  the  hull  thing  is  the  gittin'  back.  We 
ain't  got  the  money  to  pay  your  passage  back  on  one  of  the 
river  boats,  Abe,  so  you'd  have  to  walk.  Even  if  you  could 
sell  the  boat  there  wouldn't  be  more'n  enough  to  pay  your  way 
back,  and  there'd  be  no  profit.  I  went  down  myself  oncet,  and 
walked  back  to  Kaintuck.  'Twas  all  of  eighteen  hundred  mile, 
and  it  warn't  no  joke.  It  would  take  you  all  of  three  months. 
I'll  have  to  mull  it  over." 


96  LINCOLN 

"Maybe  I  could  work  my  way  back  on  one  of  the  boats," 
suggested  the  youth  hopefully.  He  wanted  so  much  to  see  the 
great  world  for  himself. 

"Mebbe  so,  mebbe  so,"  assented  his  father.  "Well,  I'll  see 
about  it." 

Several  days  were  passed  discussing  the  matter,  but  in  the 
end  Abraham's  wishes  prevailed,  and  he  set  to  work  enthusias- 
tically to  raise  the  produce  necessary  to  stock  a  boat.  John 
Hanks  had  gone  to  Illinois,  and  there  were  only  his  father, 
John  Johnston,  and  himself  to  attend  to  the  work  on  the  farm. 
And  Thomas  Lincoln  was  more  and  more  inclined  to  shift  his 
share  to  the  shoulders  of  his  son  and  stepson.  So  it  was  largely 
by  Abraham's  own  efforts  that  the  produce  was  raised. 

It  was  ready  at  length,  and  in  the  Fall  of  1827,  Abraham 
went  down  to  the  Landing  and  built  himself  a  small  flat- 
bottomed  boat.  It  was  large  enough  to  take  a  barrel  or  two  of 
things  they  had  raised,  with  his  bundle  and  himself  to  the 
Southern  market. 

One  bright  morning,  as  he  stood  looking  at  his  boat,  wonder- 
ing whether  there  was  anything  he  could  do  to  improve  it  in 
any  way,  a  carriage  drove  down  to  the  shore  and  two  men  got 
out.  The  strangers  went  along  the  banks  looking  at  the  boats. 
They  singled  out  Abraham's,  and  stopped  by  his  side. 

"Who  owns  this  boat?"  asked  one  of  them. 

"I  do,"  the  youth  told  them  modestly. 

"Will  you  take  us  and  our  trunks  out  to  the  steamer?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Abraham  courteously,  glad  of  the  chance 
to  make  a  little  money. 

A  steamer  was  coming  down  the  river,  and,  as  there  were  no 
wharves,  the  custom  was  if  passengers  were  at  any  of  the 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  GREAT  WORLD       97 

landings,  for  them  to  go  out  in  a  boat,  the  steamer  stopping 
amid  stream  to  take  them  on  board.  The  boy  lifted  the  trunks 
on  the  flatboat,  the  men  seated  themselves  on  the  trunks,  and 
he  sculled  them  out  to  the  steamer.  They  got  aboard,  and  Abra- 
ham lifted  their  heavy  trunks  to  the  deck.  The  steamer  was 
about  to  put  on  steam  again  when  it  flashed  across  his  mind 
that  the  men  had  not  paid  him. 

"Hey!"  he  called.  "You've  forgotten  to  pay  me." 

"That's  so,"  said  one  of  the  men.  Each  one  took  from  his 
pocket  a  silver  half  dollar,  and  threw  it  into  the  bottom  of  his 
boat.  The  boy  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes.  A  whole  dollar 
— and  that  in  less  than  a  day!  He  drew  a  deep  breath  as  he 
picked  up  the  money. 

He  was  a  poor  boy,  and  yet  he  had  earned  a  dollar  by  honest 
labor  in  such  a  short  time.  The  most  he  had  ever  earned  had 
been  thirty-seven  cents  a  day  at  James  Taylor's.  He  sculled 
back  to  the  shore,  and  sat  looking  across  the  wide  current.  If  he 
could  do  so  well  in  such  a  short  time  what  possibilities  the  fu- 
ture might  hold  for  him  when  the  time  was  all  his  own !  He  was 
a  more  confident,  hopeful  being  from  that  time. 

'  'Pears  to  me,  Abe,  that  you'd  make  more  by  stayin'  here, 
and  doin'  jest  that  than  by  goin'  off  down  to  New  Orleans," 
said  his  father  as  his  son  dutifully  turned  over  the  dollar  to 
him. 

"I  don't  know  but  what  you're  right,  pa,"  replied  Abraham 
thought  fully. 

So  the  bacon,  garden  truck,  and  odds  and  ends  he  had  gath- 
ered together  for  the  trip  were  sold  to  a  trader,  and  Abraham 
did  a  little  business  on  his  own  account  on  the  river.  He  was 
able  to  earn  quite  a  little  by  rowing  passengers  out  from  the 


98  LINCOLN 

Indiana  side  to  the  steamers  halted  by  a  signal.  James  Taylor 
had  operated  the  ferry  across  Anderson's  Creek;  the  ferry 
across  the  Ohio  River  was  operated  by  John  T.  Dill. 

Now  John  T.  Dill  did  not  like  to  have  Abraham  Lincoln 
transporting  passengers  out  to  steamers.  He  believed  that  all 
such  traffic  belonged  to  him  by  right  of  his  license.  He  did  not 
take  into  consideration  the  fact  that  the  young  fellow  did  not 
solicit  custom  when  Dill  was  on  the  Indiana  side.  But  if  a 
steamer  had  been  hailed  and  was  approaching,  and  Dill  was  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  that  was  his  opportunity,  and  he  im- 
proved it. 

One  morning  as  he  sat  in  his  boat,  glancing  idly  at  the  other 
boats,  he  heard  a  hail  from  the  Kentucky  side,  and  looked 
around  to  see  Dill  beckoning  to  him. 

"Hey,  you  Lincoln!"  he  called.  "Come  over  here!" 

As  there  was  no  prospect  of  a  passenger  Abraham  rowed 
across,  wondering  what  Dill  could  want  of  him.  He  had 
stepped  ashore,  and  fastened  his  boat,  and  was  about  to  rise 
from  his  stooping  position  when  another  man,  who  had  lain  in 
wait  behind  some  shrubs,  leaped  upon  him,  and  together  with 
Dill  bore  him  to  the  ground.  Though  taken  unawares  young 
Lincoln  was  a  match  for  them.  They  had  not  reckoned  on  the 
young  giant's  strength  and  muscle.  A  short  sharp  struggle 
ensued,  and  Abraham  flung  off  his  assailants,  and,  a  little 
disheveled  but  cool,  rose  and  faced  them. 

"What's  the  meanin'  of  this?"  he  asked.  "What  made  you  all 
jump  on  me  like  that?" 

"You're  takin'  our  business  away  from  us ;  that's  why,"  said 
the  man  who  had  been  hidden  and  who  proved  to  be  Dill's 
brother.  "You  air  stealin'  our  business,  and  we're  goin'  to  duck 

you." 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  GREAT  WORLD       99 

"I  haven't  taken  your  business,  and  maybe  I'll  have  some- 
thing to  say  about  that  duckin',"  said  Abraham  quietly. 

Well,  the  young  giant  had  thrown  off  both  of  them,  and  the 
Dills,  after  a  second  look  at  him  concluded  that  the  ducking 
might  not  prove  so  easy  after  all.  A  few  moments  of  confer- 
ence took  place,  and  then  Dill  spoke: 

"See  here!  if  we  go  before  a  magistrate  and  prove  that  you 
have  no  right  to  run  a  ferry  on  the  river,  and  that  you  air  in- 
fringing on  our  rights  by  so  doin',  will  you  stop  it?" 

"If  you  can  prove  by  law  that  I  am  infringing  on  your 
rights,  of  course  I'll  stop,"  Abraham  told  them. 

"All  right.  Come  on!"  Dill  led  the  way  towards  the  house 
of  Squire  Samuel  Pate,  only  a  few  hundred  yards  away. 

Squire  Pate  had  built  his  new  hewn-log  house  with  one  of 
its  rooms  of  unusual  size,  with  special  reference  to  use  as  a 
magistrate's  court  room.  He  led  the  way  at  once  to  this  room, 
and  called  Court.  The  Dills  entered  complaint  and  swore  out 
a  warrant  which  was  served  upon  the  defendant  in  Court.  The 
squire  at  once  called  the  case  of  the  Commonwealth  of  Ken- 
tucky against  Abraham  Lincoln. 

"Are  you  ready  for  trial?"  he  asked. 

Both  parties  assenting  he  called  upon  the  Dills  to  state 
their  complaint. 

"It's  like  this,  squire,"  said  John  T.  Dill.  "This  here  de- 
fendant, Abraham  Lincoln,  is  a  transportin'  passengers  to 
steamers  on  the  Ohio  River  when  he  has  no  license  to  operate 
a  ferry  on  the  stream.  Now  I,  John  T.  Dill,  hold  a  license 
granted  to  me  by  the  State  of  Kentucky,  to  operate  a  ferry 
across  the  Ohio  River  from  the  Kentucky  shore  to  the  mouth 
of  Anderson's  Creek.  Therefore,  I  claim  that  said  Lincoln  is 
a  vi'latin'  my  rights  as  given  to  me  by  the  Statute." 


100  LINCOLN 

The  squire  turned  towards  the  youthful  defendant. 

"What  have  you  to  answer  to  this  charge?"  he  asked. 

The  young  fellow  scratched  his  head  thoughtfully. 

"Well,  squire,"  he  said,  "in  a  way  I'm  guilty.  I'll  admit 
that  I  have  transported  passengers  to  steamers,  as  Mr.  Dill 
says;  but  I  haven't  intended  to  violate  no  statute,  nor  to  in- 
fringe upon  his  rights.  And  I  don't  think  I  have  done  so.  The 
ferry  license  authorizes  Mr.  Dill  to  set  passengers  across  the 
stream  for  pay  between  the  two  points  specified.  But  it  don't 
seem  to  me  that  it  should  forbid  other  ferrymen  to  transport 
passengers  to  the  middle  of  the  river. 

"I've  never  set  anybody  across  the  river,  squire,  because  I 
knew  that  Mr.  Dill  had  the  special  right  to  do  that,  but  as  I 
said  before,  I  have  took  folks  to  mid-stream  to  steamers.  The 
ferry  boat  can't  always  be  on  the  Indiana  side  when  steamers 
air  a  comin',  and  you  know  they  won't  be  delayed.  Therefore, 
when  passengers  air  waitin'  for  them  it  ain't  no  more'n  right 
that  they  should  have  the  opportunity  to  hire  a  boat  to  take 
them  out  to  the  steamer.  That's  where  I  come  in.  When  Mr. 
Dill  is  on  the  Kentucky  side,  and  anybody  wants  to  go  to  a 
steamer  I  take  'em." 

Squire  Pate  sat  still  for  a  moment.  He  was  much  impressed 
by  the  sincerity  of  the  young  man,  and  began  to  examine  with 
some  care  his  copy  of  the  Statutes  of  Kentucky.  At  length  he 
closed  the  book. 

"The  Court  finds,  Mr.  Dill,"  he  said,  "that  you  unquestion- 
ably hold  the  lawful  and  exclusive  right  to  set  a  person  across 
the  river,  but  the  Court  is  of  the  opinion  that  that  right  does  not 
preclude  an  unlicensed  person  from  rowing  to  the  middle  of  the 
stream.  The  defendant  is  therefore  discharged." 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  GREAT  WORLD     101 

Much  disgusted  the  Dill  brothers  went  their  way.  The 
squire  turned  to  the  young  man. 

"Sit  down,  and  talk  awhile,"  he  said.  "I  was  much  interested 
in  the  way  you  handled  your  case.  Have  you  ever  studied  law?" 

"No,"  replied  Abraham.  "I  have  thought  that  I  should  like 
to  do  so  though." 

"You  should.  Every  one  ought  to  know  something  of  law. 
Many  difficulties  could  be  avoided  if  men  would  only  inform 
themselves  concerning  the  Statutes." 

They  talked  long  and  earnestly.  The  squire  cleared  his 
docket  once  a  month,  and  more  than  once  Abraham  rowed 
across  to  attend  these  trials.  He  became  intensely  interested  in 
court  procedure.1 

He  also  walked  sixteen  miles  to  the  office  of  David  Turn- 
ham,  the  sheriff  of  Spencer  County,  and  borrowed  the  Revised 
Statutes  of  Indiana  to  study.  Mr.  Turner  took  a  great  interest 
in  him,  and  helped  him  whenever  he  could  in  his  studies. 

The  Statutes  contained  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States,  the  Act  of  Virginia  passed 
in  1783  by  which  the  territory  northwestward  of  the  River 
Ohio  was  conveyed  to  the  United  States,  and  the  Articles  of 
1787  for  governing  this  territory.  The  Revised  Laws  of  In- 
diana with  the  Constitution  of  the  State  followed.  These  docu- 
ments took  a  great  hold  on  Abraham.  He  not  only  studied 
them;  he  saturated  himself  with  them. 

Frequently  he  wandered  off  to  Boonville,  a  town  on  the 
river,  distant  fifteen  miles,  the  county  seat  of  Warwick  County, 
to  hear  and  see  how  the  courts  were  conducted  there.  He  began 
too  to  make  political  speeches,  and  became  so  adept  that  he 

J  The  above  case  related  by  Mr.  Wm.  H.  Townsend  in  Barton's  Life  of  Lincoln. 


102  LINCOLN 

could  draw  a  crowd  about  him  every  time  he  mounted  a  stump. 
Even  when  at  work  in  the  field  he  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  mount  the  nearest  stump  and  practice  on  his  fellow  la- 
borers. The  latter  would  flock  around  him,  eager  to  hear  the 
droll  ideas  and  original  theories  he  would  advance. 

At  this  time  Abraham  wrote  out  his  thoughts  on  the  Coun- 
try's form  of  government,  the  Constitution  and  the  Union  in  a 
composition — "American  Government" — which  he  asked  his 
friend,  Mr.  William  Wood  of  Gentryville,  to  read  and  keep 
for  him.  Through  his  instrumentality  it  attracted  the  attention 
of  many  persons,  among  them  Lawyer  Pitcher,  of  Rockport, 
afterwards  Judge  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas.  Lawyer 
Pitcher  declared  that  the  "world  couldn't  beat  it,"  and  gave 
the  young  fellow  free  access  to  the  books  in  his  library. 

Although  it  was  the  universal  custom  of  the  time  to  indulge 
in  strong  drink  Abraham  had  not  permitted  himself  to  acquire 
the  habit.  The  pioneers  were  a  law-abiding  people,  as  a  rule. 
Deeds  of  violence  were  only  committed  under  the  influence  of 
drink.  The  youth  had  observed  this,  and  had  taken  it  to  heart. 
He  wrote  an  article  on  Temperance  which  was  brought  to  the 
attention  of  a  Baptist  preacher,  Aaron  Farmer,  a  man  of  local 
renown,  who  thought  it  so  good  that  he  sent  it  to  an  Ohio 
newspaper  which  published  it. 

The  boy  attained  quite  a  little  prominence  by  these  two 
articles;  but,  after  all,  the  things  which  gave  him  the  admira- 
tion and  mastery  of  the  countryside  were  his  gigantic  stature 
and  his  feats  of  strength.  Some  of  these  almost  surpass  belief. 
It  was  told  of  him  that  he  had  picked  up  and  carried  away  a 
chicken-house  weighing  six  hundred  pounds.  On  another  oc- 
casion, seeing  some  men  preparing  a  contrivance  for  lifting 
some  large  posts,  Abe  quickly  shouldered  the  posts  and  carried 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  GREAT  WORLD     103 

them  where  they  were  needed.  One  of  his  employers  declared 
that,  "he  could  strike  a  maul  a  heavier  blow — could  sink  an  axe 
deeper  into  the  wood  than  any  man  he  ever  knew." 

In  a  new  settlement  the  country  store  is  the  resort  of  story- 
tellers. It  is  the  literary  club,  the  lecture  platform,  and  the 
centre  around  which  the  associated  life  of  the  community  clus- 
ters. The  general  store  at  Gentryville  had  become  such  a  cen- 
tre. Abraham  liked  to  go  there,  and  Jones,  the  proprietor,  liked 
for  him  to  come.  He  was  a  good  story-teller,  a  clever  debater, 
and  a  jovial  companion.  He  made  many  friends,  and  some- 
times the  men  would  cluster  about  him  till  midnight,  listening 
to  his  stories  which  always  contained  pith  and  point. 

In  January  of  1828,  a  bereavement  came  that  wrung  the 
boy's  heart :  his  sister  Sally  died.  She  had  always  been  greatly 
attached  to  him,  and  he  felt  the  blow  keenly.  The  shadows  deep- 
ened upon  his  face ;  a  melancholy  settled  upon  him  which  gave 
place  to  intense  restlessness.  He  wanted  to  get  away  from 
Pigeon  Creek.  Having  great  faith  in  the  judgment  of  his 
friend,  William  Wood  of  Gentryville,  he  went  to  him  and 
stated  the  condition  of  things;  ending  with, 

"Would  you  give  me  a  recommendation  to  the  officers  of 
one  of  the  boats  plying  up  and  down  the  river,  Mr.  Wood? 
Maybe  I  could  get  something  to  do  on  one  of  them." 

"I  wouldn't  do  it  Abraham,"  said  Mr.  Wood  shaking  his 
head.  "You  are  not  of  age  yet;  are  you?" 

"No,  I  shall  be  nineteen  next  month." 

"Well,  Abraham,  you  know  that  your  father  has  the  right 
to  your  time  and  labor  until  you  are  twenty-one  years  old.  If 
I  were  you  I  would  stay  with  him  until  you  are  legally  your 
own  master.  It  is  sometimes  hard  for  a  young  fellow  to  do  that, 
especially  when  he  feels  that  he  could  better  himself  by  striking 


104  LINCOLN 

out  into  the  world.  But  it  is  a  moral  duty  that  you  owe  your 
father  as  well  as  a  legal  one." 

Duty?  Abraham  thought  the  matter  over.  If  it  were  right  he 
must  do  it  even  though  the  cost  to  himself  be  great.  And  sud- 
denly he  seemed  to  hear  again  the  words  of  his  dying  mother: 
"Be  good  to  your  father,  my  son."  Thanking  Mr.  Wood  for 
his  advice  the  youth  left  the  house  of  his  friend  resolved  to 
stay  with  his  father  until  he  was  morally  and  legally  free  of  his 
obligation. 

And  then,  as  though  it  were  a  reward  for  this  determination, 
a  few  weeks  afterwards  there  came  to  him  the  longed-for  op- 
portunity to  see  the  world. 

Mr.  James  Gentry,  after  whom  the  village  of  Gentryville 
was  named,  for  whom  he  had  been  at  work,  had  fitted  out  a 
boat  with  grain  and  meat  for  a  trading  expedition  to  New 
Orleans.  He  had  placed  his  son,  Allan  Gentry,  in  charge  of 
the  cargo  but  he  wished  to  have  some  one  accompany  him.  He 
decided  upon  Abraham,  even  though  the  latter  had  not  been 
much  away  from  home,  and  knew  absolutely  nothing  about  the 
Mississippi  River.  But  Mr.  Gentry  had  found  him  trustworthy 
and  resourceful;  so  he  offered  him  eight  dollars  a  month  and 
board,  with  return  transportation,  to  go  with  his  son.  Abra- 
ham accepted  the  offer  with  alacrity.  It  was  not  the  money  to 
be  made  that  he  was  thinking  of;  it  was  the  delight  of  seeing 
the  world.  New  Orleans  was  the  most  cosmopolitan  and  bril- 
liant city  of  the  United  States  at  this  time.  To  a  Westerner  a 
halo  of  romance  and  unreality  hung  over  it.  Allan  Gentry  was 
no  less  pleased  with  the  prospect  of  seeing  it  than  was  Abra- 
ham Lincoln.  Therefore,  it  was  with  no  small  degree  of  excite- 
ment that  the  two  j*oung  men  pushed  out  from  the  shore  of  the 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  GREAT  WORLD     105 

Landing,  one  bright  day  in  March,  and  set  forth  on  their — 
to  them — momentous  trip. 

The  boat  was  wide  and  flat,  of  that  variety  that  the  river  men 
termed  "Broadhorn."  It  had  a  little  caboose  in  which  they 
could  sleep,  and  clay  several  inches  in  depth  was  spread  upon 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,  upon  which  they  could  kindle  a  fire, 
bake  their  corn  bread,  and  fry  their  meat.  Each  night  they  were 
to  tie  up  at  a  landing  or  to  a  convenient  tree. 

It  was  March.  The  river  was  swollen  from  the  spring  rains, 
but  this  made  it  easier  for  Abraham,  manager  of  the  forward 
oars,  to  avoid  snag,  and  eddy,  and  bar,  and  keep  the  blunt 
nose  of  the  boat  well  directed.  There  were  not  many  settle- 
ments along  the  Ohio;  here  and  there  they  beheld  a  clearing 
and  a  solitary  log  cabin,  or  away  off  in  dim  forest  valleys  they 
could  see  the  rising  smoke  of  sugar  camps.  From  the  densely 
wooded  shores  there  came  the  whistle  of  the  red  birds,  the  chat- 
ter of  squirrels,  and  the  cooing  of  many  pigeons.  Sometimes 
the  call  of  wild  turkeys  came  to  them,  now  from  the  Kentucky 
and  now  from  the  Indiana  shore.  At  such  times  Allan  would 
get  his  gun,  and  their  fare  of  corn  bread  and  bacon  would  be 
varied  by  game. 

Sometimes  the  days  were  lonely;  at  other  times  the  river 
rang  with  the  music  of  boat  horns,  and  all  sorts  of  craft  went 
by.  Sometimes  at  night  the  stillness  of  the  great  river  was 
broken  by  the  hooting  of  the  big-horned  owl  echoing  away 
among  the  dark  woods,  or  in  the  early  morning  by  the  familiar 
crowing  of  the  cocks  as  they  awoke  the  hen  roosts  of  the  in- 
frequent settlements. 

On  and  on  they  drifted  down  the  Ohio  until  at  last  they  came 
to  a  wide  expanse  of  water  at  its  mouth,  and  turned  into  the 


106  LINCOLN 

great  yellow  Mississippi  at  Cairo.  Abraham's  heart  expanded 
with  excitement  and  joy  as  he  entered  the  monster  river.  On 
down  they  went,  for  hundreds  of  miles,  borne  swiftly  by  the 
irresistible  current.  It  took  a  keen  eye,  a  steady  hand,  and 
nerve  of  iron  to  effect  a  stop  at  the  various  landings  for  trad- 
ing, but  the  required  visits  were  made,  and  the  young  mer- 
chants met  with  gratifying  success.  On  down  they  went.  At 
intervals  they  beheld  large  plantations  with  their  collections  of 
cabins — the  homes  of  slaves — and  sometimes  they  heard  the 
negroes  chanting  at  their  work,  the  plaintive  cadences  of  the 
melodies  fraught  with  a  haunting  sadness. 

One  night,  six  miles  below  Baton  Rouge,  they  moored  the 
boat  at  the  landing  of  the  plantation  of  Madame  Duchesne. 
It  was  so  warm  that  both  Abraham  and  Allan  preferred  to 
sleep  on  the  open  deck  rather  than  in  the  close  caboose.  The 
young  fellows  had  had  rather  a  trying  day  so  that  both  fell 
asleep  soon  after  lying  down. 

Allan  Gentry  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  stealthy  foot- 
steps, and  sat  up  leaning  on  his  elbow  trying  to  peer  into  the 
darkness.  Everything  was  quiet,  but  he  felt  that  all  was  not 
right.  After  listening  for  several  moments  he  was  about  to  lie 
down  again  when  several  negroes  sprang  upon  the  deck  of 
the  boat. 

"Abe!"  shouted  Allan  springing  to  his  feet. 

There  was  so  much  of  alarm  in  Allan's  voice  that  Abraham 
jumped  to  his  feet,  the  sweat  starting  from  his  brow.  He  was 
just  in  time.  The  negroes,  who  were  seeking  plunder,  hurled 
themselves  upon  the  two  young  men.  They  would  think  lightly 
enough,  now  that  they  were  discovered,  of  knocking  the  young 
traders  on  the  head  and  throwing  them  into  the  river.  It  was 
a  fight  for  life  Abraham  realized. 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  GREAT  WORLD     107 

"Get  the  guns,  Abe,"  shouted  Allan. 

But  Abraham  Lincoln  needed  no  gun.  He  was  among  the 
darkies  with  a  serviceable  club,  striking  right  and  left.  Allan 
Gentry,  too,  was  fighting  with  all  his  might,  desperation  lend- 
ing strength  to  his  arms.  The  negroes  fought  well  though  they 
were  evidently  surprised  by  the  vigorous  defense.  One  of  them 
gave  Abraham  a  wound,  the  scar  of  which  he  carried  with  him 
to  his  grave;  but  his  strength  and  agility  were  too  much  for 
them.  He  knocked  several  overboard,  and  put  the  rest  to  flight, 
howling  with  pain.  Flushed  with  battle  the  two  carried  the 
war  into  the  enemy's  country,  and  pursued  the  retreating  Af- 
ricans some  distance  into  the  forest  that  made  a  dark  blur 
against  the  star-studded  sky.  Bleeding  but  victorious  they 
swung  about  presently,  and  returned  to  the  boat. 

"We'd  best  get  out  of  here,  Allan,"  said  Abe.  "They  may 
come  back  with  others." 

"Yes;  and  they  might  be  armed  too,  Abe.  I  think  it's  just  as 
well  to  go." 

With  this  they  cast  off  moorings,  hastily  swung  into  the 
stream,  and  floated  down  the  river  until  daylight. 

On  down  the  stream  they  went,  the  river  becoming  a  vast 
yellow  lake.  At  length,  early  one  afternoon,  they  came  to  New 
Orleans. 

Hundreds  of  flatboats  were  moored  along  the  levees ;  steam- 
boats were  coming  and  going ;  ships  were  anchored  in  the  river. 
They  heard  languages  which  they  could  not  understand — 
French  and  Spanish — and  saw  sailors  from  all  parts  of  the 
world. 

It  was  a  low-lying  city  they  saw,  as  they  glided  along  the 
eastern  bank,  or  levee,  which  held  the  river  back  from  the 
lowlands.  Presently  they  found  an  open  space  between  the 


108  LINCOLN 

boats  and  gliding  to  the  landing,  leaped  ashore,  and  made  fast 
their  boat.  They  disposed  of  the  rest  of  the  cargo  to  good  ad- 
vantage, and  sold  the  empty  boat  for  it  would  not  pay  to  take 
it  home  up-stream.  Then,  stared  at  by  the  boatmen  and  idlers 
along  the  levee,  the  two  adventurers  set  forth  to  see  the  city. 

It  was  like  nothing  Abraham  had  ever  seen.  The  houses  had 
an  odd  and  foreign  look — some  were  of  wood,  some  of  logs 
and  plaster,  and  some  of  adobe  with  curving  roofs  of  red  tiles 
and  eaves  projecting  over  the  banquettes,  as  the  side-walks 
were  called.  The  people,  houses,  manners  and  customs — all 
were  different  from  what  Abraham  and  his  fellow-boatman 
had  ever  seen.  It  was  a  strange  and  motley  throng  that  filled 
the  streets,  and  a  strange  and  motley  city. 

Other  strange  sights  unfolded  before  the  two  young  men 
during  the  few  days  they  remained  in  the  city.  The  products 
of  the  world  were  offered  for  sale  in  the  marts,  and  strangest 
and  saddest  sight  of  all  to  Abraham  Lincoln  was  the  sale  of 
human  beings  in  the  slave  mart, — negroes  and  negresses  sold 
to  be  taken  to  the  cotton  and  sugar  plantations.  It  was  his 
first  sight  of  human  slavery,  and  he  never  forgot  it.  The  sight- 
seeing over,  the  two,  elated  by  their  success,  made  their  way 
back  to  Indiana  by  steamboat  where  they  arrived  in  June,  the 
trip  having  lasted  about  three  months. 

The  old  duties  of  farm  hand,  hired  man,  woodsman,  were 
taken  up  again,  and  life  went  on  in  the  old  way.  Nay;  not 
quite,  for  Abraham  had  had  a  glimpse  of  the  great  world,  his 
horizon  was  wider  than  it  had  been.  Mr.  Gentry  was  so  well 
pleased  by  the  success  of  the  venture  that  he  planned  another 
to  be  made  the  following  year. 

It  was  not  to  be.  With  the  coming  of  1829  the  Pestilence, 
the  dread  malady  called  the  "milk-sick,"  again  made  its  ap- 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  GREAT  WORLD     109 

pearance,  and  swept  over  the  valley  of  Pigeon  Creek.  Cattle 
and  people  died,  and  all  operations  of  farm  and  village  came 
to  a  standstill.  Dennis  Hanks  had  an  attack  of  it,  and  all  of  his 
cattle  and  stock  died.  Neither  man  nor  beast  seemed  safe  from 
its  ravages.  Thomas  Lincoln  became  restless  and  uneasy.  At 
this  time  messages  were  received  from  John  Hanks  who,  it 
will  be  remembered,  had  gone  to  Illinois,  containing  glowing 
accounts  of  the  country,  and  urging  the  family  to  move  thither. 

"I  reckon  we'd  better  go,  Abe,"  said  Thomas  Lincoln  who 
was  never  averse  to  moving.  "It  'pears  like  we  don't  git  on 
here.  Been  here  nigh  on  to  fourteen  year,  and  haven't  paid  for 
the  farm  yit.  Yes;  I  reckon  we'd  better  go." 

"All  right,  pa,"  answered  Abraham  slowly.  He  was  reluc- 
tant to  leave  Indiana.  He  had  lived  among  the  people  since  he 
was  seven  years  old,  and  had  gained  their  respect  and  affection. 
Would  he  find  such  friends  in  the  new  country? 

And  the  settlers  heard  with  regret  of  his  going.  They  gave 
him  many  proofs  that  he  would  not  be  forgotten  when  the 
intention  of  the  family  to  move  became  known.  It  was  not  until 
March,  1830,  however,  that  all  was  in  readiness  for  the  migra- 
tion. The  farm  was  turned  over  to  Mr.  Gentry  of  Gentryville, 
the  corn  and  hogs  were  sold  to  Mr.  David  Turnham,  and 
finally  Thomas  Lincoln  declared  himself  ready  to  go. 

But  Abraham  had  two  visits  to  pay  before  he  was  ready  to 
go  anywhere.  One  was  to  the  village  cemetery  where  Sally  was 
buried;  and  the  other  was  to  the  grave  under  the  great  trees 
of  the  forest  where  his  mother  lay.  That  angel  mother  of  whom 
he  said  in  after  life —  "All  that  I  am  or  hope  to  be  I  owe  to 
my  angel  mother." 

They  found  him  there  weeping,  for  he  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  leaving  her  there  alone.  But  the  ox-team  was  wait- 


110  LINCOLN 

ing,  and  he  went  slowly  and  sadly  to  take  it  in  charge,  little 
dreaming  how  the  new  life  towards  which  he  was  beginning  the 
journey  would  end. 

And  as  he  drove  out  of  the  valley  a  friend  planted  a  cedar 
tree  to  his  memory;  the  first  monument  ever  erected  to  him. 


CHAPTER  NINE 

THE   LAND   OF  THE    ILLINI "THE   LAND   OF   GROWN-UP    MEN" 

It  matters  not  how  anxious  one  is  to  begin  a  journey,  or  how 
strong  the  lure  towards  a  new  country ;  when  the  time  of  part- 
ing from  the  old  friends  and  associations  comes,  and  the  actual 
severing  of  ties  that  binds  one  to  the  place  called  home  is  at 
hand,  sadness  fills  the  heart,  and  a  nameless  dread  that  per- 
haps after  all  the  move  is  unwise ;  perhaps  after  all  new  friends 
and  the  new  place  may  not  be  what  one  expects,  creeps  over 
one.  And  so  the  little  party  that  drove  out  of  Pigeon  Creek 
Valley  on  that  March  day  of  1830  were  sad  and  sorrowful. 
There 'was  not  much  conversation  for  a  long  time  after  start- 
ing, each  one  being  busied  with  his  thoughts — and  feelings. 

Abraham  was  sitting  on  the  seat  overlooking  the  oxen  in  the 
front  of  the  Lincoln  wagon,  staring  straight  ahead,  the  hickory 
handle  of  his  ox-whip  lying  across  his  lap,  the  lash  at  his  feet, 
his  dark,  droll  face  heavy  with  melancholy.  He  threw  off  his 
thoughtful,  dejected  attitude,  however,  as  a  smothered  sob 
broke  from  his  mother's  lips. 

"This  here  movin'  reminds  me  of  a  feller  I  heard  about  in 

Kaintuck,"  he  remarked.  "He  moved  so  often  that  his  chickens 

would  lay  down  and  cross  their  legs  to  be  tied  every  time  they 

in 


112  LINCOLN 

heard  wagon  wheels.  I  reckon  ours  will  soon  get  to  doing  the 
same  thing." 

"And  we  all  remind  me  of  the  old  woman  before  she  got 
religion,"  spoke  Dennis  Hanks  not  to  be  outdone.  "  'Brethring 
and  sistring,'  she  said  at  the  Camp-meetin',  'I  uster  allers  be 
in  the  cellar  a  poutin'  afore  I  got  religion;  and  now  I'm  allers 
on  the  housetop  a  shoutinV  We've  been  in  the  cellar  long 
enough;  it's  time  for  the  shoutin'." 

And  soon,  under  the  influence  of  these  two  indefatigable 
fun-makers,  the  party  recovered  their  spirits,  and  the  journey 
proceeded  merrily,  its  tedium  beguiled  by  jest,  and  song,  and 
story. 

There  were  thirteen  persons  in  the  caravan.  Thirteen?  Nay, 
fourteen;  for  a  pet  dog  followed  the  wagon  driven  by  Abra- 
ham Lincoln.  Thomas  Lincoln,  his  wife,  his  son  Abraham,  his 
stepson  John  Johnston,  Mrs.  Lincoln's  two  daughters  with 
their  husbands — Dennis  Hanks  and  Levi  Hall — and  their  chil- 
dren made  up  the  company. 

The  Spring  was  backward  and  the  weather  was  cold,  but 
the  sky  was  blue,  the  buds  were  swelling,  and  an  occasional 
robin  gave  promise  of  the  coming  of  warmer  days.  The  ground 
had  not  yet  yielded  up  the  frosts  of  winter  so  that  during  the 
day  the  roads  would  thaw  out  on  the  surface  and  at  night  freeze 
over  again,  thus  making  travelling,  especially  with  oxen,  pain- 
fully slow  and  tiresome.  The  streams  were  swollen,  and,  as 
there  were  no  bridges,  these  had  to  be  forded.  In  the  early  part 
of  the  day  the  latter  were  also  frozen  slightly. 

There  were  many  hardships  to  be  endured,  but  with  the 
bravery  of  pioneers  the  party  bore  them  hopefully,  considering 
them  as  only  the  temporary  deprivations  necessary  to  accom- 
plish what  they  had  started  out  to  do. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  ILLINI  113 

One  morning,  after  two  rainy,  cold  days  with  a  northeast 
wind  blowing,  they  came  to  a  stream  that  was  covered  with 
thin  ice.  The  oxen  paused  on  the  bank,  hesitating  to  go  for- 
ward, but  at  length  were  forced  onward,  breaking  through  a 
square  yard  of  ice  at  every  step.  Abraham  led  the  way  with 
his  wagon,  so  intent  on  getting  across  that  he  did  not  notice 
that  his  dog  was  missing.  As  the  last  yoke  of  oxen  reached  the 
western  side  of  the  stream,  however,  a  pitiful  yelp  sounded 
from  the  opposite  bank.  There  was  the  dog,  whining  and  run- 
ning back  and  forth,  afraid  of  the  ice  which  drove  him  out 
whenever  he  ventured  into  the  water. 

"I  declare,"  exclaimed  Abraham,  "if  there  ain't  the  dog!  I 
wonder  how  he  got  left?  I  reckon  I  didn't  hear  him  bark  be- 
cause the  wagon  creaked  so  loud." 

"It's  his  own  fault,"  remarked  his  father  crossly.  "The  houn' 
was  off  after  a  rabbit,  and  didn't  catch  up  with  us  till  after  we'd 
crossed.  I  seen  him." 

"Oh,  come  on,  Abe,"  called  Dennis.  "We  don't  want  the 
purp  anyway.  He  can  either  swim  across,  or  stay  where  he  is. 
He  can  take  care  of  himself." 

"And  we're  losin'  time  a  standin'  here  a  parleyin'  about  a 
houn'  dog,"  said  Thomas  Lincoln  wrathfully.  "Whip  up, 
Abe!" 

"I'm  going  to  get  that  dog,"  said  Abe. 

"But,  man  alive;  it  won't  pay  to  turn  the  wagon  back  and 
ford  the  stream  again,"  protested  his  father. 

"I'm  not  goin'  to,  pa;  but  I  can't  leave  that  dog."  With  this 
Abraham  stripped  off  his  shoes  and  socks,  and  turning  up  his 
breeches  as  far  as  he  could,  waded  across  the  icy  water  to  the 
other  side,  picked  up  the  shivering  dog,  and  returned  in  tri- 
umph to  the  party. 


114  LINCOLN 

"You'll  get  your  death  of  cold,"  complained  his  father,  "And 
all  on  account  of  a  pup." 

"I  couldn't  leave  him,  pa.  Just  see  how  glad  he  is,"  returned 
Abraham  putting  the  animal  on  the  ground  where  it  began 
making  frantic  leaps  of  joy  and  giving  other  demonstrations 
of  dog  gratitude.  "That  pays  for  all  the  exposure  I've  under- 
gone." 

"You're  too  chicken-hearted  for  your  own  good,"  growled 
Thomas  Lincoln.  "Some  day  you'll  wish  you  was  callous 
enough  not  to  let  such  things  worry  you.  A  man  gits  the  wust 
of  it  when  he's  too  tender." 

Abraham's  only  reply  was  to  swing  his  whip  lustily  over  the 
oxen's  heads,  and  the  wagons  started  onward.  It  was  a  long 
journey,  lasting  two  weeks,  yet  it  was  filled  with  keenest  in- 
terest. Sometimes  they  rode  through  giant  timber,  and  at  other 
times  over  wide  savannas,  an  expanse  of  prairie  and  forest  that 
"in  fifty  years  was  to  be  changed  by  the  axe  and  the  plowshare 
into  prosperous  farms  and  homesteads,  and  settled  by  the  rest- 
less nations  of  the  world." 

And  so  journeying  across  the  prairies,  black  with  rich  loam, 
alive  to  all  the  sights  of  this  new  land  of  Canaan,  the  party 
came  to  rest  at  last  at  the  cabin  of  John  Hanks,  five  miles 
northeast  of  Decatur. 

He  gave  them  a  hearty  welcome,  and  after  they  had  rested 
a  few  days,  took  them  to  the  land  that  he  had  selected  from 
the  public  lands  for  them,  five  miles  beyond  his  place,  and  ten 
miles  west  of  Decatur,  in  Macon  County.  The  place  was  on  a 
bluff,  overlooking  the  Sangamon  River,  and  was  well  supplied 
with  timber.  It  was  such  a  charming  and  picturesque  site  that 
all  of  them  were  delighted.  John  Hanks  had  most  of  the  logs 
cut  ready  for  the  building  of  the  house,  and  the  men  of  the 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  ILLINI  115 

party  set  to  work  with  so  much  enthusiasm  that  a  building  was 
shortly  erected.  With  the  aid  of  the  oxen  and  a  plow  John 
Hanks  and  Abraham  broke  up  fifteen  acres  of  virgin  soil,  then 
split  rails  enough  from  the  adjacent  timber  to  fence  the  whole 
place  in.  They  were  now  full-fledged  citizens  of  Illinois — The 
Land  of  the  Illini — the  French  had  added  the  ois — "The  Land 
of  grown-up  men." 

As  was  the  custom,  all  the  neighborhood  flocked  in  for  the 
housewarming  when  the  cabin  was  finished ;  a  way  they  had  of 
welcoming  newcomers.  A  man  by  the  name  of  Posey,  a  candi- 
date for  office,  travelling  through  the  country  districts  of  the 
county,  took  advantage  of  the  time  and  place  to  make  a  speech. 
He  was  against  Internal  Improvements,  and  spoke  warmly 
concerning  the  matter.  When  he  had  finished  John  Hanks 
voiced  the  thoughts  of  the  gathering. 

"That  speech  don't  amount  to  anything,"  he  said  bluntly. 
"Abe  here  can  beat  it  all  holler." 

"Come  on,  Abe,  let's  hear  you,"  cried  the  men  laughing. 

"Yes;  come  on,  Abe,"  said  John  Hanks  turning  over  a  box 
for  him  to  stand  on. 

Nothing  loath  Abraham  mounted  the  box  and  spoke — taking 
the  same  subject  as  Posey,  Internal  Improvements — with  the 
Navigation  of  the  Sangamon  River  in  particular — a  subject 
dear  to  the  hearts  of  the  assembled  people.  The  men  applauded 
him  vigorously  when  he  had  finished,  and  Mr.  Posey,  the  candi- 
date, congratulated  him  heartily,  asking  him  where  he  had 
learned  to  do  so  well.  Abraham  told  him  of  his  manner  and 
method  of  reading,  and  what  he  had  read.  Mr.  Posey  shook 
hands  with  him  again,  and  encouraged  him  to  persevere. 

"You  have  done  well,"  he  said.  "It  is  remarkable  that  you 
should  have  read  so  many  books  by  yourself.  Keep  on.  A  man 


116  LINCOLN 

that  has  brains,  the  brains  that  you  have,  will  make  something 
of  himself.  I  wish  you  success." 

"Now  wasn't  that  handsome  of  him?"  asked  Abraham  of  his 
father  and  John  Hanks.  "Not  many  men  would  have  talked  to 
me  like  that.  I'm  right  glad  that  I  met  with  him." 

"Well,  I'm  sorry,"  exclaimed  his  father  eying  his  lanky 
length  dubiously.  "You  know  more  about  speechifying  now 
than  you  do  about  work,  and  this  kind  of  talk  is  apt  to  onsettle 
ye  more'n  never.  And  ye  never  have  been  any  hand  to  work  like 
killin'  snakes  at  that." 

But  Abraham  only  laughed.  He  was  twenty-one  the  Feb- 
ruary before  the  family  migration  had  taken  place,  and  was 
ready  now  to  shift  for  himself.  He  had  helped  his  father  to 
move,  to  build  a  cabin,  had  plowed  and  put  in  the  crops,  fenced 
in  the  farm,  and  had  done  all  that  he  could  to  make  his  parents 
comfortable.  With  the  sons-in-law  living  with  them  they  no 
longer  had  need  of  him.  The  time  had  come  for  the  fledgling 
to  leave  the  nest. 

He  had  absolutely  nothing  to  start  out  with,  and  was  obliged 
to  work  at  such  odd  jobs  as  he  could  get  among  the  farmers 
in  the  neighborhood.  He  needed  a  pair  of  trousers  badly  so 
that  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  make  a  bargain  with  a  Mrs. 
Nancy  Miller  to  split  four  hundred  rails  for  every  yard  of 
brown  jeans,  dyed  with  white  walnut  bark,  that  would  be  nec- 
essary to  make  him  a  pair.  He  was  cheerful,  ready  to  turn  his 
hand  to  any  honest  piece  of  work  so  that  he  soon  grew  in  favor 
with  the  rude  and  simple  pioneers  of  southern  Illinois.  Most 
of  his  work  was  done  in  company  with  John  Hanks,  as  farm- 
hand and  rail-splitter.  At  this  time  he  usually  walked  five,  six, 
and  seven  miles  to  his  work.  And  so  the  fall  and  early  winter 
passed.  And  then  came  the  snow. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  ILLINI  117 

The  winter  of  1830-31  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten  in 
Illinois.  It  made  an  historic  epoch.  The  weather  remained  open 
and  comparatively  pleasant  up  to  Christmas  Day  when  it  be- 
gan to  snow.  It  continued  until  the  snow  was  three  feet  deep 
on  the  level.  Then  came  a  drizzling  rain  that  froze  as  it  fell, 
the  thermometer  sinking  to  twelve  degrees  below  zero.  There 
came  more  snow  and  more  rain.  A  thick  crust  of  ice  gathered 
on  the  snow,  and  the  difficulty  of  getting  about  housed  up  the 
settlers  in  their  solitary  cabins.  For  weeks  the}T  remained  shut 
in  hoping  for  some  mitigation  of  the  severe  cold,  and  were  then 
driven  forth  by  the  fear  of  famine.  Those  who  survived  in  after 
years  called  themselves  "snow-birds."  * 

The  winter  bore  with  especial  severity  upon  the  Lincoln 
family  as  they  had  no  large  stores  of  supplies  either  of  food 
or  fuel.  Abraham  split  three  thousand  rails  for  one  Major 
Warnick  in  the  neighborhood,  as  he  could  through  the  winter, 
walking  back  and  forth  three  miles  from  his  father's  house  to 
do  it.  He  nearly  froze  his  feet,  and  was  laid  up  in  consequence. 

The  prospects  for  the  future  were  not  very  bright.  There 
seemed  to  be  nothing  before  him  but  the  life  of  a  farm-hand 
or  rail-splitter,  and  in  the  past  few  months  there  had  not  been 
much  chance  to  read.  His  aspirations  were  not  crystallized  as 
yet,  but  he  was  filled  with  vague  longings  for  something  better 
than  he  had  known.  While  he  was  speculating  upon  what  lay 
before  him  he  was  surprised  one  day  by  a  visit  from  a  stranger 
whom  John  Hanks  brought  to  see  him. 

The  man  proved  to  be  one  Dennis  Offutt,  a  venturesome, 
iridescent  business  man  with  many  business  operations  along 
the  Sangamon  River.  He  had  heard  glowing  reports  of  John 
Hanks'  successful  experience  as  boatman  in  Kentucky,  and 

i  Nicolay  and  Hay. 


118  LINCOLN 

had  come  down  the  river  to  engage  him  to  take  a  boat  load 
of  stock  and  provisions  down  to  New  Orleans.  As  they  would 
need  additional  help  John  Hanks  had  brought  him  to  Abra- 
ham, after  telling  Mr.  Offutt  of  the  latter's  experience  in  tak- 
ing a  boat  to  New  Orleans. 

"Will  you  go,  Abe?"  asked  Hanks  as  he  finished  telling 
these  facts  to  Abraham. 

"If  arrangements  can  be  made  that  would  be  satisfactory," 
answered  the  young  man. 

"Well,  I  will  give  fifty  cents  a  day  and  find  you,"  said  Den- 
nis Offutt.  "Further,  if  the  venture  proves  successful,  I  will 
give  an  additional  twenty  dollars  to  each  at  the  end  of  the 
trip." 

Abraham  and  John  Hanks  exchanged  glances.  Neither  one 
of  them  had  ever  had  so  much  money  at  one  time.  Fifty  cents 
a  day  and  found — which  meant  food  and  lodging — were  not 
often  to  be  picked  up.  Abraham  reflected. 

"Would  you  need  a  third  man?"  he  asked.  "There's  Jack 
Johnston  who  might  go." 

"Yes;  a  third  man  would  prove  very  useful,"  replied  Offutt. 

So  Abraham  brought  in  his  stepbrother,  and  the  bargain 
was  made.  They  were  to  join  Offutt  at  Springfield  as  soon  as 
the  snow  should  go  off,  he  agreeing  to  have  a  boat  ready  for 
them  at  the  mouth  of  Spring  Creek  upon  their  arrival. 

With  some  impatience  Abraham  awaited  the  time  of  depar- 
ture. The  snow  lingered,  but  about  the  first  of  March,  1831, 
went  off  with  a  rush,  so  flooding  the  country  that  travelling  by 
land  was  impossible.  The  young  men  purchased  a  large  canoe 
and  floated  down  the  Sangamon  River  in  it.  They  lauded  at 
Judy's  Ferry,1  five  miles  west  of  Springfield,  and  walked  to 

i  Now  Jamestown. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  ILLINI  119 

Springfield  where  they  found  Offutt  at  the  "Buckhorn  Inn." 

He  had  failed  in  getting  a  boat  at  Beardstown,  as  he  had  told 
them  he  would  do,  and  for  a  short  time  it  seemed  to  the  young 
fellows  as  though  their  chance  of  opulent  employment  was 
about  to  come  to  naught.  Then  an  idea  came  to  Abraham. 

"Why  not  let  us  build  the  boat  for  you,  Mr.  Offutt?"  was 
his  proposal. 

"Could  you?"  asked  Dennis  Offutt  eagerly.  "Why  I  would 
give  each  of  you  twelve  dollars  a  month  and  found,  if  you 
would.  But  could  you  do  it?" 

"Yes,"  Abraham  told  him  positively.  "We've  had  some  ex- 
perience in  building  such  boats.  I  reckon  we  could  make  one 
that  would  carry  all  the  stock  and  grain  you  could  put  on  it." 

So  this  second  bargain  was  made.  The  three  young  men  went 
to  Sangamontown,  on  the  Sangamon  River,  seven  miles  north- 
east of  Springfield,  and  set  to  work.  From  what  was  known  as 
"Congress  Land,"  that  is,  land  belonging  to  the  Government, 
they  got  out  the  necessary  timber  for  the  vessel,  and  had  it 
whipped  into  shape  by  Kirkpatrick's  Sawmill.  During  the 
work  of  construction  they  lodged  in  a  shanty  near-by,  which 
they  themselves  built,  doing  their  own  cooking,  Abraham  be- 
ing— as  he  himself  described  it — "Chief  cook  and  Bottle 
washer." 

It  took  about  four  weeks  to  build  the  boat,  and  then  they 
sent  for  Offutt  to  come  to  the  launching.  The  boat  was  loaded 
with  pork  in  barrels,  corn,  and  hogs;  and  the  party,  Offutt, 
Abraham  Lincoln,  John  Hanks,  and  John  Johnston,  embarked 
on  the  Sangamon,  booming  with  Spring  freshets,  for  New 
Orleans.  A  few  miles  down  the  river,  at  the  village  of  New 
Salem,  there  was  a  mill-dam,  and,  though  the  river  was  raging, 
the  boat  stuck,  and  hung  helplessly  over  the  dam. 


120  LINCOLN 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Offutt  disgustedly,  "this  settles  our  trip 
to  New  Orleans.  I  reckon  this  is  as  far  as  we'll  get." 

"I  reckon  not,"  spoke  Abraham.  "We'll  try  to  get  off." 

But  all  their  efforts  were  unavailing.  All  night  they  hung, 
and  morning  found  their  situation  apparently  hopeless.  The 
bow  of  the  boat  was  in  the  air,  the  stern  in  the  water,  and  the 
cargo  settling  backward — shipwreck  almost  certain. 

Meantime,  the  news  of  the  plight  of  the  strangers  had  spread 
throughout  the  village,  and  the  entire  population  gathered  on 
the  banks,  commenting  on  the  situation,  shouting  advice,  and 
hectoring  and  worrying  the  harassed  mariners.  It  was,  to  say 
the  least,  an  embarrassing  position.  But  Abraham  Lincoln  had 
been  thinking  to  some  purpose. 

"See  if  we  can  get  the  loan  of  a  boat,  John,"  he  said  to 
Hanks.  "If  we  can  get  the  cargo  off  I  believe  that  I  can  get  the 
boat  over." 

The  boat  was  borrowed.  The  crowd  on  the  shore  ceased  its 
comments  to  watch  what  the  tall,  gaunt  bow-hand,  clad  in  a 
homemade  suit  of  blue  jeans,  who  was  wading  about  the  boat, 
rigging  up  an  indescribable  sort  of  contrivance,  was  doing. 
He  soon  had  the  boat  unloaded ;  all  hands  working  with  a  will. 
When  this  was  done  he  tilted  the  boat,  and  let  the  water  out 
of  it  by  boring  holes  in  the  bottom.  The  boat  was  then  easily 
hoisted  over  the  dam.  The  holes  were  plugged,  the  boat  re- 
loaded, and  the  boat  and  her  crew  floated  down-stream  amid 
the  lusty  cheers  of  the  crowd. 

The  ingenuity  which  the  young  man  had  shown  was  a  mat- 
ter of  conversation  for  many  days  among  the  village  inhabi- 
tants, but  no  one  was  more  impressed  than  Dennis  Offutt.  He 
vowed  that  he  would  build  a  steamboat  for  the  Sangamon,  and 
make  Abraham  Lincoln  its  captain,  and  "it  would  have  to  go." 


Abe  and  His  Crew  Made  a  Quick  Voyage  Down  the  Broad  Mississippi 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  ILLINI  121 

They  made  a  quick  voyage  down  the  Sangamon  into  the  Il- 
linois River,  and  thence  on  down  to  the  broad  Mississippi. 
Swiftly  they  glided  past  Alton,  St.  Louis,  Cairo,  making  brief 
stops  at  Memphis,  Vicksburg,  and  Natchez.  Early  in  May 
they  came  in  sight  of  the  masts  and  spires  of  the  Crescent  City. 

There  were  thousands  of  boats  along  the  river  front:  arks, 
keel-boats,  barges,  and  steamboats — symbols  of  a  resistless 
commerce.  So  many  that  it  was  said  that  "one  could  walk  a  mile 
over  the  tops  of  these  boats  without  going  ashore."  Farther  out 
in  the  yellow  current  were  the  masts  and  spars  of  packets, 
barques,  and  brigantines;  all  nations  of  the  world  being  rep- 
resented in  these  high-hulled  vessels. 

Abraham  and  his  companions  tied  up  alongside  of  the  boats, 
and  at  once  set  about  disposing  of  the  remainder  of  the  cargo. 
It  took  them  a  month  to  do  this,  and  meantime  they  wandered 
about  the  narrow  streets  of  the  city  viewing  the  sights. 

Since  young  Lincoln  had  visited  the  city  three  years  previ- 
ously New  Orleans  had  entered  upon  an  era  of  unprecedented 
prosperity,  and  was  more  than  ever  cosmopolitan  in  its  make- 
up and  in  its  life. 

In  their  rambles  through  the  shell-paved,  narrow  streets  the 
young  men  saw  much  of  human  slavery.  At  this  time  the  city 
was  full  of  slaves,  and  the  sad  sight  of  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren sold  publicly  like  animals  was  most  revolting.  "The 
better  class  of  slave-holders  of  the  South,  who  looked  on  the 
institution  as  patriarchal,  and  who  guarded  their  slaves  with 
conscientious  care,  knew  little,  it  should  be  said,  of  this  terrible 
evil.  Their  transfer  of  slaves  was  humane;  but  in  the  open 
markets  of  the  city  it  was  attended  by  shocking  cruelty  and 
degradation."  1  Abraham  Lincoln's  mind  and  conscience  were 

i  Tarbell's  Life  of  Lincoln. 


122  LINCOLN 

awakened  to  the  inhumanity  of  the  system  by  the  sights  he  saw 
in  New  Orleans,  and  "Slavery  ran  its  iron  into  him  then  and 
there." 

In  June  the  party  embarked  on  a  steamboat  and  went  up 
to  St.  Louis  where  they  separated.  Abraham  and  his  step- 
brother walked  across  Illinois  to  Coles  County  to  which  place 
Thomas  Lincoln,  driven  out  of  Macon  County  by  fever  and 
ague,  had  removed.  John  Hanks  went  on  to  Springfield,  while 
Dennis  Offutt  remained  behind  at  St.  Louis. 

Before  Abraham  left  him,  however,  Offutt — who  had  taken 
a  great  liking  to  him — engaged  him  to  take  charge  of  a  store 
which  he  proposed  to  establish  in  the  new  village  of  New  Salem. 
He  was  to  ship  goods  for  the  enterprise  a  few  weeks  later,  and 
Abraham  was  to  meet  him  there  to  enter  upon  his  new  duties. 
In  the  meantime,  he  was  to  drift  about  until  his  employer  was 
ready  for  him.  He  went  to  spend  the  time  of  waiting,  which 
he  thought  would  probably  be  his  last  stay,  under  his  father's 
roof. 


CHAPTER  TEN 


HONEST    ABE 


The  interval  spent  at  his  father's  house  passed  quickly.  The 
family  knew  that  this  time  Abraham's  stay  from  home  would 
last  indefinitely,  and  he  was  made  to  feel  that  he  would  be 
missed  exceedingly.  When  the  day  for  departure  came  his  step- 
sisters were  in  tears ;  the  voluble  Dennis  Hanks  had  nothing  to 
say,  and  even  his  father  forbore  to  make  adverse  remarks. 
Instead  he  shook  his  hand  warmly,  slapped  him  on  the  back, 
and  in  many  ways  showed  that  after  all  he  was  proud  of  his 
tall  son.  Mrs.  Lincoln's  emotion  was  so  great  that  she  could 
only  cling  to  him  without  speaking.  She  had  been  much  to  the 
boy.  Throughout  his  childhood  and  youth  she  had  encouraged 
him  in  his  studies,  stimulated  his  ambitions,  aided  him  in  every 
way  she  could,  and  had  ever  proved  to  be  a  true  mother  to 
him.  It  was  hard  to  tell  her  good-bye,  so  strong  and  abiding 
was  the  affection  between  them. 

The  parting  was  over  at  length,  and  Abraham  left  his  fa- 
ther's roof  never  to  reside  under  it  again,  though  he  did  not  lose 
sight  of  his  parents.  He  continued  to  aid  them  in  every  way, 
even  when  he  could  ill  afford  to  do  so.  Now  he  set  forth  for 
New  Salem  with  all  the  pathetic  eagerness  of  youth  for  a 
plunge  into  the  unknown. 

123 


124  LINCOLN 

New  Salem,  where  Dennis  Offutt  was  to  establish  his  store, 
was  a  sprightly  village,  built  on  a  bluff  overlooking  the  Sanga- 
mon River.  It  was  a  new  village,  having  sprung  into  being  just 
two  years  before  young  Lincoln  began  his  journey  towards  it. 
It  stood  among  the  woods  on  the  brow  of  the  ridge,  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  Sangamon,  about  twenty  miles  northwest  of 
Springfield.  Beyond  the  line  of  the  forest  stretched  wide  savan- 
nas over  which  were  scattered  a  number  of  farms,  standing  out 
in  bold  relief  from  the  dead  level  of  the  prairie.  The  village  it- 
self contained  from  fifteen  to  twenty  houses,  all  built  of  logs, 
and  about  a  hundred  inhabitants.  It  boasted  a  grist-mill,  a  saw- 
mill, a  schoolhouse,  several  stores  and  a  tavern.  It  had  also 
a  dam  that  made  its  presence  known  by  its  noise. 

It  was  the  morning  of  a  day  in  August,  1831,  that  Abraham 
Lincoln  climbed  the  long,  hard  hill  on  which  the  little  log- 
cabin  settlement  rested,  and  made  his  way  through  its  one 
street  to  a  long  low  house  over  whose  door  hung  a  sign  which 
bore  the  word:  "Rutledge's  Tavern." 

"Could  you  tell  me,  sir,  if  Mr.  Dennis  Offutt  is  here?"  he 
asked  of  the  pleasant-faced  man  who  came  forward  at  his  en- 
trance. 

"He  is  not  here,"  was  the  answer.  Dennis  Offutt  and  his 
many  enterprises  were  known  all  up  and  down  the  Sangamon 
River.  "Were  you  to  meet  him  at  this  place?" 

"Yes;  Rutledge's  Tavern,  New  Salem.  Are  you  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge?" 

"James  Rutledge,  at  your  service.  Well,  Offutt  is  not  here 
unless  he  is  somewhere  about  town.  You  may  find  him  outside. 
It's  Election  Day,  you  know?  Meantime,  just  leave  your  bun- 
dle here  while  you  look  about." 

"Thank  you  kindly,  Mr.  Rutledge."  Abraham  deposited  his 


"HONEST  ABE"  125 

bundle  of  belongings  on  the  floor  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  "If 
he  does  drop  in  tell  him  that  Abraham  Lincoln  is  looking  for 
him.  Well,  I  reckon  I'll  look  around  outside." 

"He  may  come  into  town  later  in  the  day,  if  he  is  not  about 
now,"  suggested  the  landlord. 

"That's  so,"  assented  Abraham.  "I'll  look  about."  With  this 
he  sallied  forth  into  the  street  which  ran  through  the  centre 
of  the  hamlet. 

The  hitching  rails  in  front  of  the  stores  and  houses  were 
filled  with  horses,  for  the  people  from  the  surrounding  country- 
side had  come  in  for  the  election.  A  number  of  these  were  gath- 
ered about  the  polling-place,  and  Abraham  made  his  way 
thither,  edging  through  the  crowd  to  watch  the  method  of  pro- 
cedure. 

It  was  before  the  time  of  voting  by  ballot.  The  judges  and 
clerk  sat  at  a  table  with  the  poll-book  before  them.  The  voter 
walked  up,  announced  the  candidate  of  his  choice,  and  it  was 
recorded  in  his  presence.  Several  people  glanced  around  as  the 
young  man  entered,  and  spoke  cordially  to  him,  recognizing 
him  as  the  ingenious  young  flatboatman  who,  the  April  previ- 
ous, had  freed  his  boat  when  it  was  caught  on  the  dam. 

The  clerk  of  the  election,  who  had  been  glancing  over  the 
crowd  with  some  anxiety,  noticed  the  tall  young  stranger,  and 
beckoned  to  him.  Surprised,  Abraham  went  to  his  side. 

"Did  you  want  me?"  he  asked. 

"Yes;  that  is,  if  you  can  write.  Can  you?" 

"Well,  I  can  make  a  few  rabbit  tracks,"  was  the  young  man's 
answer. 

"Then  you  are  the  very  man  for  us,"  exclaimed  the  clerk. 
"You  see  the  Election  Board  appointed  me  as  clerk  with  Mr. 
McNamee  as  my  assistant.  But  Mr.  McNamee  is  sick,  so  he 


126  LINCOLN 

can't  be  here.  We  have  been  looking  for  some  one  to  help  us 
out.  Will  you  do  it?" 

"Be  right  glad  to,"  replied  Abraham  taking  the  chair  the 
clerk  drew  out  for  him.  "Now  show  me  what  you  want  done, 
and  I'll  do  my  best." 

"I  am  sure  you  will,"  responded  the  clerk  who  promptly 
proceeded  to  initiate  him  into  the  duties  of  the  office. 

Abraham  quickly  grasped  what  was  expected  of  him,  and 
soon  evidenced  that  he  could  fill  the  position  in  a  satisfactory 
manner.  At  intervals  during  the  day  the  voting  was  slow  and 
things  dragged.  In  one  of  these  periods  a  man  came  up,  and 
announced  his  candidate  in  a  loud  voice,  saying — as  young  Lin- 
coln recorded  his  vote : 

"And  I  wish  I  had  every  vote  in  the  county  to  give  to  Jack 
White." 

"That  reminds  me  of  a  man  in  Spencer  County,  who  raised 
the  biggest  hog  in  Indiana,"  spoke  Abraham  dryly.  "It  was 
a  famous  animal,  and  people  from  far  and  near  came  to  see 
him.  One  day  a  man  came  and  asked  to  see  the  hog. 

1  'We  air  chargin'  two  bits  now  for  the  privilege,'  said  the 
owner. 

"The  man  paid  the  money  then  got  into  his  wagon. 

"  'Hey!  don't  you  want  to  see  the  hog?'  yelled  the  farmer. 

'  'No,'  said  the  stranger.  'I've  seen  the  biggest  hog  in  In- 
diana and  I  don't  want  to  look  at  a  smaller  one.' ' 

The  voter  joined  in  the  good-natured  laugh  at  his  expense 
which  this  raised,  and  the  crowd  closed  in  about  the  polling- 
place,  aroused  to  new  interest.  It  was  but  the  beginning  for 
Abraham.  Whenever  things  slowed  up  he  would  begin  to  "spin 
Indiana  yarns,"  to  the  great  delight  of  the  loiterers  who  lis- 
tened to  them  with  keenest  relish.  So  witty  were  these  tales  that 


"HONEST  ABE"  127 

many  were  told  and  retold  long  afterwards  to  the  friends  of 
those  who  heard  them  that  day.  In  a  community  where  every 
man  knows  all  his  neighbor's  history,  and  has  heard  everybody 
else's  favorite  story  a  new-comer  is  welcomed  with  enthusiasm; 
especially  if  he  has  a  stock  of  fresh  jokes  and  anecdotes.  So 
Abraham  Lincoln's  story-telling  established  him  in  the  good 
graces  of  New  Salem  at  once. 

When  the  polls  were  closed  the  clerk  thanked  him  for  his 
services,  and  congratulated  him  on  the  ability  with  which  he 
had  discharged  his  duties  and  entertained  the  crowd. 

"What  is  your  name?"  he  asked.  "Mine  is  Mentor  Graham. 
I  am  the  school-master." 

"Howdy,  Mr.  Graham,"  said  Abraham  extending  his  hand. 
"I'm  Abraham  Lincoln." 

"Going  to  live  here,  Mr.  Lincoln?"  The  school-master  shook 
his  hand  warmly  as  he  asked  the  question. 

"I  reckon  so.  I  am  to  be  the  clerk  in  Mr.  Offutt's  new  store. 
But  say!  folks  mostly  call  me  Abe." 

"All  right,  Abe."  Mr.  Graham  laughed  and  shook  hands 
again.  "I  am  glad  that  you  are  going  to  be  among  us.  You 
couldn't  have  come  to  a  better  place.  We're  going  to  have  a 
big  city  here  some  day.  It's  bound  to  come.  The  Sangamon 
Country  is  the  Canaan  of  America,  and  that  will  bring  settlers. 
Indeed,  the  name  Sangamon  is  a  word  of  the  Pottawatomies 
meaning  Land  of  Plenty." 

"Glad  to  hear  it,"  laughed  Abraham.  "My  appetite  is  down- 
right healthy.  It  takes  a  lot  of  fodder  to  satisfy  it." 

"I  should  think  it  would."  Mr.  Graham  glanced  quizzically 
up  and  down  the  young  man's  length.  "How  tall  are  you?" 

"Six  feet,  four.  I  come  from  the  tall  timber." 

It  was  the  beginning  of  a  warm  friendship  between  the 


128  LINCOLN 

two ;  the  first  of  many  friendships  that  Abraham  Lincoln  made 
in  New  Salem.  Dennis  Offutt  had  not  appeared  during  the 
day;  nor  did  he  show  up  for  many  days  thereafter.  Abraham 
spent  the  time  of  waiting  for  his  arrival  in  strolling  about  the 
village  getting  acquainted.  He  found  that  the  place  contained 
a  blacksmith,  a  turner,  a  hatter,  a  preacher,  and  two  doctors. 
He  was  later  to  learn  that  if  inhabitants  were  few  they  were 
energetic,  and  that  there  were  some  cultured  people  among 
them.  Indeed,  the  life  of  New  Salem  was  to  exert  a  marked 
influence  upon  his  development.  Providence  could  not  have  as- 
signed him  to  a  more  favorable  place. 

Though  it  was  pleasant  to  make  acquaintances  the  time  of 
waiting  was  irksome,  and  Abraham  was  glad  when  Mentor 
Graham  threw  a  chance  in  his  way  to  pilot  a  flatboat  contain- 
ing the  family  and  household  goods  of  a  Doctor  Nelson, 
who  was  leaving  the  village  for  Texas,  through  the  Sanga- 
mon to  the  Illinois  River  as  far  as  Beardstown.  He  conducted 
the  boat  through  safely,  and  on  arriving  at  Beardstown  left 
it,  and  returned  to  New  Salem  on  foot  across  the  sand  and 
hills. 

Offutt  with  his  goods  had  come  at  last,  and  the  two  set  at 
once  to  work  upon  getting  the  store  ready  for  business.  It  was 
opened  in  a  little  log-house  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  overlooking 
the  river.  It  was  a  general  store,  and  on  its  shelves  were  found 
all  the  articles  needed  in  a  pioneer  community. 

The  store  soon  became  a  social  centre  for  the  men  of  the 
village.  They  remembered  the  stories  the  young  fellow  had 
told  on  Election  Day,  and  were  eager  for  more.  It  was  not 
long  before  Abraham  had  established  a  reputation  for  droll 
stories  and  pithy  anecdotes,  but  the  loungers  about  the  store 


"HONEST  ABE"  129 

quickly  found  that  there  was  more  to  Offutt's  clerk  than  jokes 
and  stories. 

After  the  business  of  the  day  was  over  men  gathered  in 
the  store,  and,  seated  on  the  tops  of  kegs,  the  protruding  ends 
of  dry-goods  boxes,  and  the  counters  that  stretched  on  each 
side  of  the  room,  carried  on  discussions  on  politics,  religion, 
sports,  and  the  affairs  of  the  Universe  in  general.  In  all  of 
these  the  young  man  held  his  own,  expressing  his  views  with 
so  much  clarity  and  cogency  that  the  villagers  began  to  say 
that  Abe  Lincoln  was  as  "smart  as  they  make  'em;  that  some 
day  he  would  make  his  mark." 

But  if  Abraham  Lincoln  had  established  himself  in  the  good 
graces  of  the  people  by  his  drollery  and  ability  to  discuss  af- 
fairs of  state,  he  was  also  gaining  their  confidence  in  another 
way.  One  day  he  sold  a  small  bill  of  goods,  amounting  in  value, 
by  the  reckoning,  to  two  dollars  and  six  and  a  quarter  cents. 
He  received  the  money,  and  the  woman  went  away.  According 
to  his  usual  custom  Abraham  went  over  the  goods  sold  during 
the  day  each  night  before  closing,  adding  the  items  of  every 
bill  sold  to  make  sure  of  correctness.  That  night  when  he  came 
to  the  two  dollars  six  and  a  quarter  cents  bill  he  found  that  he 
had  charged  her  too  much.  Several  times  he  went  over  the  bill 
but  each  time  with  the  same  result :  he  had  charged  her  six  and 
a  quarter  cents  too  much.  It  was  late,  and  Mrs.  Kelso,  the 
woman  who  had  bought  the  goods,  lived  two  miles  down  the 
village  road,  but  closing  and  locking  the  store,  the  young  man 
set  forth  for  the  house.  Mrs.  Kelso  came  to  the  door  in  answer 
to  his  knock. 

"Why,  howdy,  Abram,"  she  cried.  "Come  in!  It  ain't  often 
that  you  find  time  to  visit  us." 


130  LINCOLN 

"I  didn't  come  to  visit,  Mrs.  Kelso.  I  came  about  that  bill 
of  goods  you  bought  today." 

"Land  sakes,  Abram!  What  was  the  matter  with  that  bill? 
Didn't  I  pay  you  enough?" 

"You  paid  too  much.  Six  and  a  quarter  cents  too  much." 

"Well,  since  the  Lord  made  little  apples!  Did  you  come  all 
the  way  out  here  just  to  pay  me  six  and  a  quarter  cents?  Why 
didn't  you  wait  until  I  came  in  again?" 

"I  couldn't.  Whenever  I  wrong  anybody  I  want  to  make  it 
right  just  as  soon  as  I  find  out  about  it.  I  can't  go  on  with  my 
work  unless  I  do.  I  can't  rest  easy." 

"Well,  I  do  know,  I  never  saw  such  a  boy!  Come  in,  and 
sit  a  spell,  Abram." 

"It's  too  late  tonight,  Mrs.  Kelso;  but  I  will  come  soon." 

"Do,  Abram.  We're  always  glad  to  have  you.  Good  night!" 

This,  and  other  instances  of  like  nature  brought  him  into 
high  esteem  in  New  Salem.  Men  said  that  his  word  was  as 
good  as  gold,  and  that  his  weights  were  as  true  as  steel.  This 
unusual  regard  for  the  rights  of  others  soon  won  him  the  title 
of  "Honest  Abe";  a  title  that  clung  to  him  through  life. 

But  along  with  his  ever-present  desire  to  deal  honestly  and 
justly  with  others  was  the  overwhelming  longing  for  knowl- 
edge. He  had  had  little  leisure  for  study  since  leaving  Indiana, 
though  there  had  been  much  opportunity  for  the  observation 
of  men  and  life.  When  the  store  was  fairly  under  way,  there- 
fore, he  began  to  look  about  for  books.  When  he  was  not  busy 
he  stretched  out  on  the  counter  with  a  bolt  of  jeans  or  calico 
under  his  head,  book  in  hand,  and  read.  Or,  weather  permit- 
ting, he  lay  prone  upon  the  ground  under  a  wide-spreading  oak 
tree  that  stood  just  without  the  door. 

Such  eagerness  to  learn  was  so  unusual  that  the  whole  vil- 


"HONEST  ABE"  131 

lage  became  interested,  and  helped  him  in  every  possible  way. 
Those  who  had  books  loaned  them  to  him  willingly;  the 
school-master,  Mentor  Graham,  helped  solve  any  difficulty  that 
he  encountered,  and  the  village  cooper  let  him  come  into  his 
shop  and  keep  up  a  fire  of  shavings  to  read  by  at  night  for  as 
long  as  he  pleased. 

Dennis  Offutt  was  inordinately  proud  of  his  clerk.  So  highly 
did  he  esteem  his  business  ability  that  he  rented  the  Rutledge 
and  Cameron  Mill  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  placed  Abraham 
in  charge  of  that  also.  William  G.  Greene  was  hired  to  assist 
him  in  the  store,  and  between  the  two  a  strong  friendship  de- 
veloped. A  good  thing;  for  the  young  men  slept  together  in 
the  back  of  the  store,  and  so  small  was  the  bed  that  when  one 
turned  over  the  other  had  to  do  likewise. 

As  had  been  said  Dennis  Offutt  was  proud  of  his  clerk. 
Proud  of  his  studious  habits,  his  greed  for  information,  his 
thorough  mastery  of  the  difficulties  of  any  new  position  in 
which  he  was  placed,  his  intelligence  touching  matters  of  pub- 
lic concern,  his  story-telling,  and,  above  all,  his  great  athletic 
power.  So  proud  was  he  that,  while  really  a  sincere  admirer  of 
Abraham,  he  praised  him  beyond  reason.  He  declared  the 
county  over  that  "Abe  knew  more  than  anybody  else  in  the 
United  States — that  he  was  sure  to  be  President  some  day,  and 
that  he  could  beat  any  man  in  the  county  running,  jumping,  or 
'wrastling.'  "  Such  boasting  was  unwise,  as  was  soon  evidenced, 
but  he  seemed  to  feel  "that  his  clerk's  physical  powers  reflected 
glory  on  himself." 

There  was  near  the  village  a  settlement  called  "Clary's 
Grove  Boys,"  a  band  of  rowdies  who  exercised  a  veritable  reign 
of  terror  over  the  neighborhood,  and  yet  who  possessed  some 
redeeming  qualities.   They  were  friendly  and  good-natured, 


132  LINCOLN 

and  quick  to  aid  a  poor  man,  a  widow,  or  an  orphan;  though 
their  methods  of  securing  the  means  for  such  giving  were  often 
open  to  question.  "They  were  rude,  swaggering,  boisterous, 
and  tremendous  fighters.''  A  stranger's  introduction  to  them 
was  apt  to  be  most  unpleasant.  It  was  unlikely  that  such  a 
crowd  would  stand  quietly  by  and  listen  to  Offutt's  boasts  that 
his  clerk  could  lift  more,  throw  farther,  run  faster,  jump 
higher,  and  wrestle  better  than  any  man  in  Sangamon  County. 

One  day  he  was  boasting  as  usual:  declaring  that  he  defied 
New  Salem  and  the  entire  world  to  produce  Abraham  Lin- 
coln's equal,  when  Bill  Clary,  one  of  "Clary's  Grove  Boys," 
stepped  up,  and  entered  into  a  heated  dispute  with  him  on  the 
matter. 

"See  here,  Offutt,"  he  ended  by  saying,  "we've  been  hearing 
that  kind  of  talk  for  about  three  months  now.  It's  time  for  a 
showdown.  Honors  are  not  worn  in  New  Salem  until  they  are 
won.  Now  I'll  bet  you  ten  dollars  that  Jack  Armstrong  is  a 
better  man  than  Abe  Lincoln,  and  that  he  can  throw  him  any 
day." 

"Done,"  cried  Offutt  quickly.  "How  about  it,  Abe?" 

"I  don't  want  any  of  that  kind  of  woolling  and  pulling," 
answered  young  Lincoln  to  whom  the  whole  matter  was  most 
embarrassing. 

"Oh,  wrastle  him,  Abe,"  exclaimed  several  voices  at  once.  As 
soon  as  it  became  known  that  a  heated  argument  was  afoot 
between  Offutt  and  Clary  men  knew  what  it  portended,  and 
gathered  in  the  store  for  the  outcome. 

"I  don't  like  tussling  and  scuffling,"  protested  Abraham. 

In  the  end,  however,  his  objections  were  over-ruled.  Dennis 
Offutt  had  gone  too  far.  There  had  been  so  much  boasting  that 
the  time  had  come  when  Abraham  had  to  show  his  mettle. 


"HONEST  ABE"  133 

The  Salemites  were  eager  for  the  fray.  Too  many  of  them 
had  suffered  from  the  depredations  of  the  gang  not  to  welcome 
a  chance  for  their  champion's  overthrow.  Once  or  twice  a  week 
the  "Boys"  descended  upon  the  village  to  "clean  it  up,"  passing 
the  time  in  drinking,  fighting,  and  brutal  horseplay.  If  Offutt's 
clerk  could  throw  the  champion  it  might  be  that  it  would  hold 
such  pastimes  in  check.  So  the  villagers  clamored  for  the  con- 
test, and  the  matter  ended  by  arranging  a  wrestling  match,  that 
was  to  be  a  friendly  bout,  between  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Jack 
Armstrong,  the  champion  of  the  Grove. 

At  the  appointed  time  Clary's  Grove  and  New  Salem  turned 
out  generally  to  witness  the  bout  which  was  to  be  held  on 
ground  near  the  store.  Young  Lincoln  was  now  six  feet  four 
inches  high,  and  weighed  two  hundred  and  fourteen  pounds. 
Jack  Armstrong  was  square-built,  and  strong  as  an  ox.  As 
soon  as  the  two  young  men  entered  the  ring  formed  by  the 
crowd  everybody  knew  that  a  contest  between  them  would  be 
close.  As  soon  as  they  had  taken  hold  of  each  other  it  was  evi- 
dent that  the  stalwart  young  Kentuckian  was  a  match  for  the 
champion  of  Clary's  Grove.  Neither  could  throw  the  other. 
Seeing  this  Armstrong,  in  desperation,  resorted  to  foul  play. 
An  injustice  of  any  kind  always  stung  young  Lincoln  into 
indignation;  so  now,  mighty  in  his  wrath,  he  seized  the  bully 
by  the  throat,  with  both  hands,  and  holding  him  out  at  arms 
length,  he  "shook  him  like  a  child."  For  a  moment  a  general 
fight  seemed  imminent  as  Armstrong's  friends  swarmed  to  his 
aid.  But  Abraham,  with  his  back  against  the  store,  awaited 
their  onset  so  calmly  that  the  gang  halted,  filled  with  an  in- 
voluntary admiration  at  his  brave  front.  As  to  Armstrong,  as 
soon  as  he  could  regain  his  breath,  he  seized  Lincoln's  hand, 
crying: 


134  LINCOLN 

"Boys,  Abe  Lincoln  is  the  best  fellow  that  ever  broke  into 
this  settlement!"  And  what  bid  fair  to  be  a  general  fight  ended 
in  a  general  hand-shaking. 

From  that  day  he  had  no  truer  friends  and  allies  than  Jack 
Armstrong,  his  wife  Hannah,  and  the  Clary's  Grove  people. 
They  rallied  to  his  support  when  he  needed  friends,  and,  years 
later,  he  saved  the  life  of  Jack's  son  from  the  gallows. 

And,  so  true  is  it  that  muscular  prowess  is  esteemed  more 
highly  than  intellectual  attainments,  the  incident  gave  him  a 
name  and  standing  of  his  own.  He  did  not  have  to  be  constantly 
scuffling  to  guard  his  self-respect.  At  the  same  time  he  gained 
the  good  will  of  the  better  element  by  showing  that  though  he 
had  the  strength  of  a  young  giant  he  was  peaceable  and  not 
inclined  to  use  it  save  in  the  interest  of  decency  and  order. 
Every  one  trusted  him.  He  became  by  general  consent  the 
peacemaker,  the  arbitrator  of  all  the  petty  quarrels  of  the 
neighborhood.  He  was  the  umpire  in  all  disputes,  games,  and 
matches  of  all  sorts.  He  never  played  cards,  nor  gambled,  nor 
smoked,  nor  used  profane  language,  nor  used  liquor  in  any 
form.  A  strange  record  for  a  young  man  among  people  ad- 
dicted to  these  customs.  In  order  to  keep  in  practice  in  debating 
he  walked  seven  or  eight  miles  to  the  debating  clubs  of  the 
countryside.  "Practicing  Polemics,"  he  called  the  exercise. 

"But  what  is  it  all  for,  Abraham?"  asked  Mentor  Graham 
one  evening  as  the  two  walked  down  the  street  towards  the 
latter's  home  where  Abraham  was  to  pass  the  night.  "Why  all 
this  study,  and  'practicing  polemics,'  as  you  call  it?  What  use 
do  you  intend  to  make  of  such  knowledge?" 

"Well,"  answered  young  Lincoln  slowly.  "I've  thought 
about  going  before  the  public  some  day.  I've  talked  with  men 
who  were  called  great  men,  Candidates  for  Office  and  a  few 


"HONEST  ABE"  135 

State  Officers,  you  know.  They  don't  seem  to  differ  much  from 
the  rest  of  us.  Perhaps  in  time  I  can  make  myself  great  too." 

"That  is  true,"  replied  the  schoolmaster.  "To  my  mind  the 
difference  between  great  men  and  other  men  is  that  great  men 
exercise  more  common  sense  in  dealing  with  things  than  other 
men.  Now  you  have  common  sense  to  an  unusual  degree,  and 
you  exercise  judgment  in  your  dealings  with  others.  You  can 
go  far,  if  you  choose.  Farther  than  any  one  else  in  the  com- 
munity. But  see  here,  Abraham!  if  you  are  going  before  the 
public  you  ought  to  study  Grammar.  It  is  the  Science  of  Lan- 
guage, and  you  need  it.  In  general,  your  language  is  good. 
You  have  unconsciously  imbibed  a  knowledge  of  the  construc- 
tion of  sentences  from  your  reading  so  that  you  avoid  glaring 
errors.  But  there  are  others  which  cannot  be  detected  without 
a  knowledge  of  Grammar,  and  to  be  a  master  of  speech,  both 
written  and  oral,  one  must  know  the  Science  of  Language." 

"But  where  can  I  get  a  grammar?  There  ain't  any  in  the 
neighborhood  that  I  can  find.  I  have  asked." 

"There  is  but  one  in  the  community,  Abraham,  and  Mr. 
Vaner,  who  lives  six  miles  from  town,  has  it." 

"Well,  I'll  go  out  and  get  it,"  commented  Abraham. 

"You  mean  you'll  try  to  get  it,"  corrected  Mr.  Graham. 

"No,  I  meant  that  I  would  get  it,"  replied  young  Lincoln. 

He  did.  He  rose  the  next  morning  from  the  breakfast  table, 
walked  the  six  miles,  and  borrowed  the  book.  From  that  time 
on  for  weeks  he  gave  every  moment  of  time  that  he  could  to 
mastering  the  contents  of  the  volume.  Frequently  he  asked  his 
friend  and  co-worker  Greene  to  hold  the  book  while  he  recited. 
When  puzzled  by  a  point  he  went  to  consult  Mentor  Graham. 

Kirkham's  Grammar  was  a  small,  thin  book,  bound  in  brown 
sheepskin.  The  principles  of  the  subject  were  expounded  in 


136  LINCOLN 

familiar  lectures,  following  the  order  of  nature;  that  is,  the 
noun  and  verb  were  dealt  with  first,  and  the  other  parts  of 
speech  as  one  would  naturally  come  to  them.  It  was  not  long 
before  young  Lincoln  had  mastered  its  contents. 

"Well,"  he  remarked  to  his  fellow-clerk,  Greene,  "if  that's 
what  they  call  a  science,  I  think  I'll  go  at  another." 

So  the  winter  passed,  and  spring  came.  The  great  meadows 
were  springing  into  being,  and  a  joyous  tumult  of  bird  song 
filled  the  woods.  All  Nature  was  waking  to  life  and  color.  But 
the  beauty  of  the  springtime  brought  no  answering  joy  to  the 
heart  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  It  found  him  face  to  face  with  a 
perplexing  problem.  The  mill  had  closed  up,  the  business  of 
the  store  was  rapidly  falling  off,  and  it  was  but  a  question  of 
time  before  it  too  would  be  closed.  The  affairs  of  Dennis  Offutt 
were  in  a  bad  way,  due  to  the  fact  that  he  had  undertaken  too 
man}^  enterprises  with  the  usual  result  of  too  many  irons  in 
the  fire.  With  the  store  closed  Abraham  told  himself  that  he 
would  once  more  be  a  piece  of  "floating  driftwood." 

He  was  by  this  time  the  most  popular  young  man  in  New 
Salem.  He  was  everybody's  friend.  His  quaint  odd  ways  and 
unwearying  good-nature  had  endeared  him  to  the  people  so 
that  they  loved  and  trusted  him.  At  this  time  it  was  said  of  him 
that  "Abe  Lincoln  had  nothing,  only  plenty  of  friends."  But 
a  man  with  plenty  of  friends  is  rich  indeed. 

So  many  of  these  friends  credited  him  with  possessing  more 
knowledge  than  most  members  of  the  community,  and  had  so 
often  remarked  that  he  could  fill  any  office  in  the  gift  of  the 
people,  that  he  began  seriously  to  consider  trying  for  a  public 
position.  One  day  while  he  was  idly  arranging  some  goods  on 
the  counter  his  friend  and  fellow-clerk,  William  Greene,  came 
to  his  side. 


"HONEST  ABE''  137 

"What  are  you  doing,  Abe?"  he  queried.  "There's  no  use 
fixing  up  things.  The  store  will  close  soon  anyway." 

"Yes;  I  know  it's  petering  out,"  rejoined  Abraham  continu- 
ing to  arrange  the  goods.  "Still,  this  gives  me  something  to 
do.  Besides,  I'm  thinking." 

"About  what  you  will  do?"  asked  Greene.  "I've  been  won- 
dering about  it  too.  As  for  myself,  father  wants  me  to  come 
home  to  help  him,  and  I  reckon  I'll  go.  But  what  are  you  going 
to  do,  Abe?" 

"I  don't  know,  Bill.  At  present  I'm  just  a  piece  of  drift- 
wood." 

"Abe,  why  don't  you  run  for  the  Legislature?  There  is  to  be 
one  elected  this  fall,  you  know?" 

Abraham  leaned  suddenly  against  the  counter,  gazing  at  his 
friend  thoughtfully. 

"I  reckon  that  would  be  pretty  bold,"  he  said  at  length. 
"But  I'd  like  to  try  it,  Bill.  I  would  so." 

"Then  do  it.  A  lot  of  us  have  talked  it  over,  and  we  think  you 
could  fill  that  or  any  other  office,"  spoke  Greene  earnestly. 
"And  right  here  and  now  I'll  promise  you  my  vote  and  to  do 
all  I  can  for  you." 

"Thank  you,  Bill.  I  know  I  can  count  on  you.  But  it  will  be 
following  a  Kentucky  precedent  sure  enough." 

"How's  that?  I'm  a  Kentuckian,  but  I  don't  remember  the 
precedent  you  refer  to." 

"Why,  when  a  Kentuckian  comes  into  a  new  State,  he  al- 
ways asks —  'What  office  have  you  vacant?'  Well,  I'll  try  for 
the  Legislature,  though  I  haven't  been  in  the  State  quite  a 
year.  Most  likely  I  shall  be  beaten,  but  trying  don't  hurt  any- 
body. I'll  try  it." 

To  his  delight  many  of  his  friends  encouraged  the  idea  of 


138  LINCOLN 

his  becoming  a  candidate  for  the  General  Assembly;  so,  March 
9th,  1832,  he  issued  a  circular  announcing  himself  as  a  candi- 
date. All  that  was  required  at  this  time  to  become  a  candidate 
was  the  mere  announcement  of  the  fact  accompanied  by  a  state- 
ment of  a  man's  opinions  regarding  local  affairs.  Lincoln's 
circular  was  a  document  containing  about  two  thousand  words. 
He  stated  modestly  his  standing  on  the  leading  questions  of 
the  day:  the  public  utility  of  internal  improvements, — a  sub- 
ject dear  to  the  hearts  of  his  constituents;  railroads,  education, 
and  usury.  All  these  opinions  were  set  forth  clearly  and  simply. 
And  then,  as  though  he  realized  the  audacity  of  a  young  man 
of  his  position  and  age — he  was  but  twenty-three — presenting 
himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  highest  law-making  body  in  the 
State,  he  closed  the  paper  with  humility : 

"But,  fellow-citizens,  I  shall  conclude.  Considering  the  de- 
gree of  modesty  which  should  always  attend  youth,  it  is  prob- 
able that  I  have  already  been  more  presuming  than  becomes 
me.  However,  upon  the  subjects  of  which  I  have  treated,  I 
have  spoken  as  I  thought.  I  may  be  wrong  with  regard  to  any 
or  all  of  them;  but,  holding  it  a  sound  maxim  that  it  is  better 
only  sometimes  to  be  right  than  at  all  times  to  be  wrong,  so 
soon  as  I  discover  my  opinions  to  be  erroneous,  I  shall  be  ready 
to  renounce  them. 

"Every  man  is  said  to  have  his  peculiar  ambition.  Whether 
it  be  true  or  not,  I  can  say,  for  one,  that  I  have  no  other  so 
great  as  that  of  being  truly  esteemed  of  my  fellow-men,  by 
rendering  myself  worthy  of  their  esteem.  How  far  I  shall  suc- 
ceed in  gratifying  this  ambition  is  yet  to  be  developed.  I  am 
young,  and  unknown  to  many  of  you.  I  was  born,  and  have 
ever  remained,  in  the  most  humble  walks  of  life.  I  have  no 
wealthy,  or  popular  relatives  or  friends  to  recommend  me.  My 


"HONEST  ABE"  139 

case  is  thrown  exclusively  upon  the  independent  voters  of  this 
county;  and,  if  elected,  they  will  have  conferred  a  favor  upon 
me  which  I  shall  be  unremitting  in  my  labors  to  compensate. 
But  if  the  good  people  in  their  wisdom  shall  see  fit  to  keep 
me  in  the  background,  I  have  been  too  familiar  with  disap- 
pointments to  be  very  much  chagrined." 

The  circular  was  received  with  great  satisfaction  by  the 
citizens  of  New  Salem.  Young  Lincoln  was  a  Whig  in  politics, 
but  Democrats  as  well  as  Whigs  rallied  to  his  support  because 
of  their  personal  liking  for  him.  A  month  of  lively  campaign- 
ing ensued,  and  then  one  day  in  April  the  little  village  was 
thrown  into  the  greatest  excitement  when  a  messenger  rode 
into  it,  crying  hoarsely  as  he  distributed  handbills : 

"Black  Hawk  has  crossed  the  Mississippi,  and  is  on  the  war- 
path. Settlers  are  fleeing  for  their  lives.  The  Governor  calls 
for  volunteers  to  defend  the  State." 


-sJ 


cpy* 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 


AN    UNEXPECTED    HONOR 

Instantly  all  was  commotion,  and  men  came  running  from 
every  side  to  learn  particulars. 

Black  Hawk's  name  was  one  that  was  well  known  to  the 
people  of  the  State.  It  was  one  that  struck  terror  to  the  hearts 
of  the  settlers  of  northwestern  Illinois,  and  his  raids  had  long 
been  a  menace  to  the  peace  of  the  frontiers.  The  land  of  the 
Rock  River  country  had  formerly  belonged  to  the  great  Indian 
chief  and  his  tribe,  but  in  1804  it  had  been  sold  to  the  United 
States.  It  contained  the  sacred  village  of  the  Sacs  near  which 
lay  their  ancient  burial  ground,  and  it  irked  the  old  chief  that 
settlers  of  another  race  should  dwell  among  the  graves  of  his 
fathers.  Often  the  urge  of  his  own  heart  and  the  bad  counsels 
of  other  chiefs  induced  him  to  try  to  regain  the  land  by  driving 
out  the  settlers,  which  resulted  in  frequent  clashes  between 
them.  Brooding  constantly  upon  his  wrongs,  fancied  and  real, 
— for  there  were  undoubtedly  acts  of  violence  upon  the  part 
of  the  whites  as  well  as  upon  his  own, — the  chief  had  persuaded 
himself  that  the  "village  had  never  been  sold — indeed,  that 
land  could  not  be  sold." 

140 


AN  UNEXPECTED  HONOR  141 

Acting  upon  this  belief,  and  encouraged  by  vague  promises 
of  assistance  from  several  other  tribes,  he  crossed  over  to  the 
east  side  of  the  Mississippi  River,  in  the  Spring  of  1831,  with 
a  large  band  of  warriors.  The  tribes  which  had  promised  aid 
failed  him,  however,  when  the  time  of  trial  came,  and  General 
Gaines  with  a  detachment  of  regulars  assisted  by  an  improvised 
force  of  volunteers  had  little  difficulty  in  compelling  the  In- 
dians to  recross  the  Mississippi,  and  to  enter  into  a  solemn 
treaty  by  which  the  former  treaties  were  ratified  and  Black 
Hawk  and  his  warriors  bound  themselves  never  again  to  set 
foot  on  the  east  side  of  the  river  without  express  permission 
from  the  President  of  the  United  States  or  the  Governor  of 
Illinois. 

The  treaty  was  his  own  act,  but  scarcely  had  he  reached 
the  other  side  of  the  river  than  he  repented  making  it.  Believ- 
ing that  if  he  should  make  a  determined  effort  to  drive  out  the 
whites  from  his  land  the  Ottawas,  Winnebagoes,  Chippewas, 
and  Pottawatomies  would  join  him  in  the  struggle,  he  be- 
gan to  make  plans  to  break  his  compact.  After  a  winter  of 
preparation  he  crossed  the  river  again  on  the  6th  of  April, 
1832,  accompanied  by  five  hundred  warriors  on  horse- 
back; and  marched  up  the  Rock  River,  while  his  women 
and  children  went  up  the  river  in  canoes.  The  settlers  were 
fleeing,  panic-stricken,  before  him,  for  his  march  was  one 
of  death  and  destruction.  It  was  this  emergency  which 
had  caused  Governor  Reynolds  to  send  out  a  call  for  volun- 
teers. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  excitement  young  Lincoln  and  the 
men  to  whom  he  had  been  talking  had  entered  the  crowd  about 
the  messenger,  and  as  the  latter  began  to  call  for  volunteers, 
he  turned  to  his  friend,  William  Greene. 


142  LINCOLN 

"Come  on,  Bill,"  he  said.  "Offutt  will  be  glad  to  be  rid  of 
us,  and  the  State  needs  us." 

"All  right,  Abe,"  responded  young  Greene. 

The  enlisting  of  the  two  young  men  was  promptly  followed 
by  a  number  of  others,  and  then  amid  the  cheering  of  the  peo- 
ple the  enlisted  men  began  their  preparations  for  departure. 
There  was  no  time  to  lose  as  the  volunteers  were  ordered  to 
assemble  at  Beardstown,  nearly  forty  miles  from  New  Salem, 
on  the  22nd  of  April,  and  that  date  was  but  a  few  days  distant. 
As  soon  as  their  preparations  were  completed  they  took  up 
their  march  for  Beardstown,  presenting  a  motley  appearance; 
for  the  volunteers  were  obliged  to  furnish  their  own  equipment 
— horses,  saddles,  rifles,  blankets — so  no  two  were  equipped 
alike.  At  Richland,  Sangamon  County,  they  were  attached 
to  Colonel  Samuel  Thompson's  regiment,  and  at  once  pro- 
ceeded to  an  election  of  officers.  At  this  time  the  volunteer  com- 
panies were  conducted  in  the  most  democratic  manner,  and  the 
method  of  electing  officers  was  simple  in  the  extreme. 

Assembling  on  the  village  green  the  chairman  of  the  com- 
mittee chosen  to  take  the  matter  in  hand  brought  the  company 
to  order  by  saying: 

"Now,  boys,  the  first  thing  is  to  name  your  candidates  for 
captain." 

Many  of  the  company  were  from  New  Salem  and  Clary's 
Grove  and  now  their  influence  was  felt.  As  the  chairman  fin- 
ished speaking  Abraham  Lincoln  was  amazed  as  a  shout  went 
up: 

"We  want  Abe  Lincoln!"  "Give  us  Honest  Abe  for  cap- 
tain!" 

From  another  contingent,  however,  arose  an  answering  cry 
of  "Kirkpatrick!"  "We  want  William  Kirkpatrick!" 


AN  UNEXPECTED  HONOR  143 

As  there  were  no  other  candidates  the  chairman  asked  the 
chosen  two  if  they  were  willing  to  be  considered.  Young  Lin- 
coln, though  he  felt  that  he  had  no  special  fitness  for  the  office, 
consented;  as  did  Kirkpatrick. 

Now  Kirkpatrick  was  one  of  the  most  influential  men  in 
Sangamon  County,  and  Abraham  Lincoln  but  an  humble  clerk 
in  a  store.  Young  Lincoln  would  not  have  given  much  for  his 
chance  of  election. 

"The  candidates  will  take  their  places  on  the  green,  one  on 
one  side;  the  other  on  the  other  side,"  instructed  the  chairman. 
"At  the  order  'March!'  you  men  are  to  go  and  stand  by  the 
one  you  want  for  captain." 

As  soon  as  young  Lincoln  and  his  competitor  had  taken  their 
places  the  command  rang  out:  "March!" 

To  Lincoln's  surprise  and  delight  three  out  of  every  four 
came  to  his  side  at  once.  When  those  who  had  gone  to  Kirk- 
patrick saw  that  Lincoln  was  the  choice  of  the  company  they 
left  their  places,  one  by  one,  and  went  over  to  the  successful 
side.  Immediately  there  rose  a  shout  of,  "Three  cheers  for 
Captain  Lincoln.  Now  with  a  will,  boys!" 

An  expression  of  pure  pleasure  spread  over  young  Lincoln's 
face.  In  all  his  after  successes  not  one  gave  him  the  satisfaction 
that  this  election  did.  It  was  the  first  official  trust  that  he  had 
ever  held,  and  he  prized  it  and  the  distinction  it  gave  him 
highly.  After  the  cheers  were  given  he  made  a  modest  speech 
of  acceptance,  expressing  his  appreciation  of  the  honor  they 
had  done  him,  and  declaring  that  he  would  do  his  best  to  merit 
the  confidence  they  had  placed  in  him. 

At  Beardstown,  Colonel  Thompson's  regiment,  the  Fourth 
Illinois,  to  which  Captain  Lincoln's  company  was  attached, 
started  northward  with  the  rest  of  the  command  under  General 


144  LINCOLN 

Whiteside  for  Yellow  Banks,  on  the  Mississippi.  It  was  ar- 
duous marching.  The  weather,  with  the  fickleness  of  spring, 
had  turned  cold,  the  roads  were  soft  and  heavy,  the  streams 
turbulent  and  swollen  from  the  spring  freshets;  but  these  dif- 
ficulties presented  no  serious  obstacles  to  backwoodsmen  accus- 
tomed to  facing  Nature  in  her  sternest  moods. 

Of  course  on  the  march  Captain  Lincoln  drilled  his  men, 
and  gave  them  such  military  instruction  as  he  was  able  to  im- 
part, but  he  was  finding  his  office  no  sinecure.  The  men  were  a 
hard  set,  with  as  little  regard  for  discipline  as  they  had  for 
appearances,  and  were  as  likely  to  jeer  at  it  when  the  new 
captain  gave  an  order  as  to  obey  it.  Young  Lincoln  himself 
made  many  blunders,  being  unfamiliar  with  military  tactics, 
being  hard  put  sometimes  to  remember  the  proper  commands. 

One  morning  he  was  marching  at  the  head  of  his  company, 
who  were  following  in  a  line  of  twenty  abreast.  All  went  well 
until  presently  the  young  captain  saw  before  him  a  gate 
much  narrower  than  the  line  through  which  it  was  necessary 
to  pass.  For  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  recall  the  right  order 
to  turn  the  company  endwise.  The  situation  was  decidedly  em- 
barassing,  when  all  at  once  there  came  to  him  an  inspiration. 
Facing  the  lines,  he  shouted : 

"Halt !  This  company  will  break  ranks  for  two  minutes  and 
form  again  on  the  other  side  of  the  gate." 

Laughing,  shouting,  pleased  with  the  quick  wit  of  their  cap- 
tain the  men  broke  ranks,  rushed  through  the  gate,  and  formed 
on  the  other  side.  There  were  other  troubles,  too,  but  the  men 
became  fond  of  their  captain,  and  obeyed  him  because  they  ad- 
mired him. 

As  soon  as  some  provisions  for  which  they  waited  arrived  at 
Yellow  Banks  the  army  of  volunteers  marched  to  the  mouth 


AN  UNEXPECTED  HONOR  145 

of  Rock  River,  and  thence  General  Whiteside  proceeded  with 
them  some  ninety  miles  up  the  river  to  Dixon  where  they  went 
into  camp  to  await  the  arrival  of  General  Atkinson  with  the 
regular  troops  and  provisions.  Near  here  occurred  the  first 
bloodshed  of  the  war. 

At  Dixon  there  were  two  battalions  of  mounted  volunteers, 
under  Majors  Stillman  and  Bailey,  who  had  as  yet  seen  no 
service,  and  were  eager  for  the  fray.  They  entreated  Governor 
Reynolds,  who  had  accompanied  the  volunteers  under  General 
Whiteside,  to  let  them  go  in  search  of  a  band  of  hostile  In- 
dians who  were  supposed  to  be  encamped  some  twelve  miles 
distant,  and  coerce  them  into  submission. 

The  required  permission  was  given,  and  they  rode  merrily 
away.  Some  hours  later  they  returned  panic-stricken  having 
been  chased  in  disorder  from  the  field  of  battle  by  Black  Hawk 
himself,  leaving  eleven  of  their  number  behind  them  dead. 
General  Whiteside  marched  out  to  the  scene  of  the  disaster  the 
next  morning,  but  the  Indians  were  gone.  The  wily  savages 
pushed  on  up  the  river,  breaking  into  predatory  and  foraging 
bands,  massacring  peaceful  settlers,  and  burning  their  dwell- 
ings. 

After  burying  the  dead  the  troops  pursued  the  Indians,  but 
it  was  like  pursuing  a  shadow.  The  savages  purposely  con- 
fused their  trail,  and  it  seemed  impossible  to  bring  Black  Hawk 
to  a  fight,  though  terrible  evidences  of  their  presence  were  left 
behind  them — deserted  and  burned  homes,  slaughtered  cattle, 
and  scalps  hung  where  the  army  could  see  them.  These  atroci- 
ties exasperated  the  volunteers,  and  they  grew  dissatisfied. 
They  had  come  out  to  fight  Indians,  and  lo !  there  were  no  In- 
dians to  fight.  The  officers  had  difficulty  in  holding  them. 

It  was  while  the  men  were  in  this  ugly  mood  that  one  day 


146  LINCOLN 

an  aged  Indian,  half-starved  and  helpless,  came  into  the  camp 
of  Lincoln's  company  while  the  young  captain  was  asleep.  As 
soon  as  the  men  saw  him  they  rushed  forward  and  seized  him, 
shouting, 

"Here's  a  redskin!  Let's  kill  him!" 

Trembling  the  old  savage  drew  from  under  his  blanket  a 
letter  which  he  handed  to  the  leader.  It  proved  to  be  a  safe 
conduct  from  General  Cass,  recommending  the  bearer  for  his 
faithful  service  to  the  whites.  As  the  leader  read  it  aloud  a  cry 
of  derision  went  up  from  the  men. 

"Stuff,"  cried  one,  "the  letter  is  a  forgery!" 

"He  is  a  spy,"  cried  another.  "Make  an  example  of  him." 

The  Indian  drew  his  blanket  around  him  and  folded  his 
arms.  "I  have  never  done  the  white  man  harm,"  he  said  with 
dignity.  "I  come  but  for  a  little  food,  and  then  to  go  my  way." 

"Don't  listen  to  him,  boys,"  cried  another.  "He's  a  spy. 
The  only  good  Indian  is  a  dead  one.  Look  what  the  reds  have 
done  to  our  people !" 

This  cry  inflamed  the  men  to  fever  heat,  and  amid  shouts 
of  "Kill  him!"  "Kill  him!"  a  number  levelled  their  muskets  at 
the  hapless  old  savage. 

At  this  instant  young  Lincoln,  who  had  been  aroused  by 
the  commotion,  burst  excitedly  into  the  group,  and  throwing 
up  their  levelled  muskets,  cried : 

"Boys,  you  shall  not  do  this  thing!  It  must  not  be  done." 

The  soldiers  began  to  jeer,  but  the  young  captain,  inter- 
posing his  tall  form  between  them  and  the  old  Indian,  faced 
them  resolutely. 

"You  shall  not  do  this  thing,"  he  repeated.  "He  came  here 
trusting  to  our  faith." 


AN  UNEXPECTED  HONOR  147 

"Ah!  the  Indians  don't  keep  their  faith.  He's  a  spy!  Stand 
aside,  or  we'll  shoot  him  through  your  body." 

"That's  the  only  way  you  can  do  it,  boys.  I'll  never  stand 
aside.  Right  is  right,  and  it  is  not  right  that  you  should  shoot 
this  old  man.  I'd  rather  be  shot  than  let  you  do  it." 

Never  had  the  men  seen  Lincoln  so  roused.  They  had  learned 
that  he  would  permit  no  dishonorable  action,  and  that  when 
he  said  a  thing  he  meant  it.  Now,  as  he  stood  before  them  his 
face  "swarthy  with  rage  and  resolution,"  they  knew  that  he 
would  let  himself  be  killed  rather  than  have  the  trust  of  a 
savage  betrayed.  In  their  hearts  they  knew  that  he  was  right. 
He  had  endeared  himself  to  them  not  only  by  his  personal 
qualities,  but  by  his  care  for  their  welfare.  For  a  long  moment 
they  maintained  their  belligerent  attitudes,  then  lowered  their 
rifles,  and  turned  sullenly  away. 

"Come,"  said  the  young  captain  to  the  Indian.  "I  will  give 
you  food,  and  then  you  shall  go  your  way." 

The  old  Indian  bowed  before  him. 

"You  are  good,"  he  said.  "Were  all  white  men  like  you  the 
hatchet  would  not  have  been  raised  between  the  red  man  and 
the  white.  The  Great  Spirit  dwells  in  a  just  man." 

After  this  Lincoln's  hold  on  his  men  was  stronger,  but  many 
of  them,  as  well  as  other  of  the  volunteers  were  exceedingly  dis- 
satisfied. There  seemed  no  prospect  either  for  glory  or  profit, 
and  they  were  weary  of  the  "work  and  hunger  which  were  the 
only  certain  incidents  of  the  campaign."  By  the  time  the  pur- 
suit of  the  Indians  had  led  them  to  Ottawa,  their  dissatisfaction 
had  become  so  great  that  Governor  Reynolds  mustered  out  all 
of  the  volunteers.  But  a  force  in  the  field  was  absolutely  essen- 
tial to  aid  the  regulars.  Black  Hawk  was  still  unsubdued,  and 


148  LINCOLN 

it  seemed  to  young  Lincoln  that  it  was  his  simple  duty  to  serve 
until  the  State  was  made  safe  for  the  settlers.  So  on  the  same 
day  that  he  was  mustered  out  he  reenlisted  as  a  private  soldier. 
Many  other  officers  did  the  same,  among  them  General  White- 
side and  Major  Stuart. 

Young  Lincoln  became  a  private  in  Captain  Elijah  Ues's 
Company  of  Independent  Rangers, — a  company  made  up  of 
generals,  colonels,  captains  and  distinguished  men  from  the 
disbanded  army.  The  Independent  Rangers  were  a  favored 
body,  used  to  carry  messages  and  to  spy  on  the  enemy.  They 
had  no  camp  duties,  and  "drew  rations  as  often  as  they 
pleased."  So  that  Lincoln  was  really  better  off  as  a  private 
than  he  had  been  as  a  captain. 

There  followed  a  whole  month  of  marching  and  maneuver- 
ing without  satisfactory  results.  Here,  there,  and  everywhere 
the  Indians  led  them.  The  business  of  pursuing  the  savages  was 
grim  and  gruesome  enough,  so  when  in  camp,  to  beguile  its 
tedium,  the  men  indulged  in  games  and  athletic  sports  which 
soldiers  love.  Lincoln  entered  into  these  amusements  with  great 
zest,  and  became  exceedingly  popular  among  his  fellows  in 
consequence  of  his  unfailing  good-nature,  and  his  ability  to 
tell  more  stories  and  better  ones  than  any  man  in  the  service. 
He  was  popular  also  on  account  of  his  great  physical  strength. 
Wrestling  was  an  everyday  amusement,  in  which  Lincoln 
had  but  one  superior  in  the  army.  One  Thompson  from  Union 
County  excelled  him,  though  the  soldiers  blamed  Lincoln  when 
he  acknowledged  the  fact,  declaring  that  Thompson  resorted 
to  foul  tactics  when  he  threw  him. 

It  was  the  middle  of  June  when  Captain  lies  and  his  com- 
pany returned  to  Dixon's  Ferry,  and  were  mustered  out.  There 
had  been  a  little  fighting  but  there  was  not  enough  of  excite- 


AN  UNEXPECTED  HONOR  149 

merit  and  success  to  keep  the  restless  spirit  of  the  volunteers 
contented.  On  June  20th  Lincoln  was  mustered  in  again  as  a 
member  of  an  independent  company  under  Captain  Jacob  M. 
Early. 

Soon  after  reenlisting  Lincoln's  company  moved  northward 
with  the  army.  Black  Hawk  was  overrunning  the  country, 
scattering  death  and  desolation  wherever  he  went.  The  settlers 
were  wild  with  fear,  and  most  of  the  settlements  were  aban- 
doned. 

Soon  after  the  army  moved  up  Rock  River,  the  independent 
spy  company  of  which  Lincoln  was  a  member,  was  sent  with 
a  brigade  to  the  northwest  near  Galena  to  reinforce  a  squad  of 
outposts  which  were  thought  to  be  in  danger.  They  arrived  just 
after  a  skirmish  had  taken  place.  The  Indians  had  surprised 
the  camp,  and  had  killed  and  scalped  every  man. 

It  was  just  sunrise  when  the  reinforcing  party  rode  up  the 
little  hill  on  which  the  camp  had  been  made.  The  red  light  of 
the  morning  sun  was  streaming  upon  the  dead,  and  young  Lin- 
coln saw  them  all  lying  with  their  heads  towards  the  advanc- 
ing party,  and  the  round  red  spots  where  they  had  been  scalped 
gleaming  redly  in  the  sun.  It  was  frightful,  but  it  was  gro- 
tesque; and  the  red  sunlight  seemed  to  paint  everything  with 
its  ruddy  glow.  It  was  the  nearest  to  an  engagement  that  he 
ever  came,  and  the  only  time  that  he  saw  blood  during  the 
campaign.  He  could  never  afterwards  recall  the  vivid  picture 
without  a  shudder. 

Northward  still  the  army  marched  in  pursuit  of  the  nearly 
exhausted  Black  Hawk ;  floundering  through  swamps,  cutting 
their  way  through  dense  forests,  or  stumbling  over  the  rank 
growth  of  the  prairies.  Early's  company  had  the  scouting  to 
do,  and  it  was  hard  service.  Finally  the  provisions  gave  out,  and 


150  LINCOLN 

the  situation  became  difficult  for  both  the  regulars  and  the  vol- 
unteers. It  was  determined  to  disband  the  volunteers.  There 
had  been  several  skirmishes  but  the  fighting  was  practically 
over.  The  last  battle — that  of  Bad  Axe — crushed  Black 
Hawk's  power  and  put  an  end  to  his  aggressions  forever. 
Therefore,  on  the  10th  of  July,  young  Lincoln's  company  was 
mustered  out  at  Whitewater,  Wisconsin. 

The  men  were  in  high  spirits  as  they  received  their  dis- 
charges, and  planned  a  merry  and  quick  journey  to  their 
homes.  On  the  morning  they  were  to  start,  however,  as  young 
Lincoln  was  getting  ready,  his  messmate,  George  W.  Harrison, 
rushed  in,  and  flung  himself  dejectedly  upon  the  cot. 

"Abe,"  he  exclaimed  in  woebegone  accents,  "what  do  you 
think?  Our  horses  have  been  stolen." 

"Stolen?"  ejaculated  Lincoln  dismayed.  For  a  moment  he 
stood  without  speaking,  and  then  he  remarked  quietly:  "Well, 
George,  it  must  have  been  by  fellows  who  were  in  a  greater 
hurry  than  we  are  to  get  home.  We'll  have  to  use  Shanks'  mare, 
I  reckon." 

"Shanks'  mare  for  three  hundred  miles,  Abe?" 

"If  we  had  met  up  with  Black  Hawk  it  might  have  been 
Death's  mare  for  eternity,  George." 

"That's  so.  Well,  let  the  other  fellows  have  the  beasts.  We'll 
get  home  anyway." 

So  with  light  hearts  they  started  homeward.  The  other  men 
of  the  company  who  had  horses  were  generous,  and  walked 
and  rode  by  turns  with  Abraham  and  his  messmate,  beguiling 
the  way  through  forest  and  prairie  with  jokes  and  stories. 

Often  they  were  hungry;  food  was  scarce;  the  settlers  had 
abandoned  their  crops  in  fleeing  before  the  Indians;  and  the 
latter  had  destroyed  them.  Therefore,  the  returning  soldiers 


AN  UNEXPECTED  HONOR  151 

were  compelled  to  live  on  corn  meal  mixed  with  water,  and 
baked  over  a  fire  in  rolls  of  bark. 

At  Peoria  young  Lincoln  and  Harrison  bought  a  canoe, 
and  paddled  down  the  Illinois  River  to  Havana  where  they 
sold  it,  and  once  more  began  their  tramp  over  the  sand-ridges 
toward  New  Salem.  All  at  once  as  they  neared  the  village 
Abraham  found  himself  almost  running.  He  checked  himself 
as  he  found  his  companion  pantingly  trying  to  keep  up  with 
him. 

"I'm  sorry,  George,"  he  said  contritely.  "But  over  the  next 
ridge  is  New  Salem.  I  feel  as  though  I  could  not  get  there 
quickly  enough." 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 


POSTMASTER  AND  SURVEYOR 


When  a  man  has  been  absent  from  familiar  scenes  for  a  few 
weeks  or  months  it  is  natural  for  him  to  expect  to  find  things 
as  he  left  them.  Often  he  is  amazed  at  the  changes  which  even 
a  short  time  may  produce.  So,  when  New  Salem  was  reached, 
Abraham  went  at  once  to  the  store  only  to  find  it  closed  and 
Dennis  Offutt  gone,  none  knew  whither.  Although  it  was  no 
more  than  he  had  expected  it  came  with  a  shock  to  find  his 
expectations  verified.  Therefore,  his  time  being  at  his  own  dis- 
posal, he  plunged  at  once  into  his  canvass  for  a  seat  in  the 
Legislature.  There  were  but  ten  days  before  the  general  elec- 
tion, so  that  no  time  was  to  be  lost. 

It  was  the  custom,  at  this  time,  for  candidates  to  travel  over 
the  county,  making  speeches  at  every  gathering  which  brought 
the  people  out.  During  election  times,  at  "Vendues,"  as  the 
public  sales  were  called,  it  was  expected  that  candidates  should 
take  the  auctioneer's  place  as  soon  as  the  sale  was  finished: 
and  market  days  were  looked  forward  to  on  account  of  the 
speeches  that  the  candidates  were  certain  to  make.  "To  take 
the  stump"  was  to  mount  a  keg,  a  dry-goods  box,  or  even 
the  stump  of  a  newly-felled  tree,  any  object,  in  fact,  around 


152 


POSTMASTER  AND  SURVEYOR  153 

which  the  people  might  gather,  and  address  the  voters  in  an 
off-hand  manner,  urging  the  reasons  why  the  speaker  should 
be  chosen  to  the  place  for  which  he  was  a  candidate. 

The  first  speech  that  young  Lincoln  made  was  after  a  sale 
at  Pappsville,  a  village  eleven  miles  west  of  Springfield.  The 
sale  was  over,  and  speech-making  had  begun  when  a  fight  broke 
out  in  the  audience.  There  were  several  candidates  present,  and 
it  was  Abraham's  turn  to  speak  when,  as  he  was  rising  to  go 
forward  to  the  front  of  the  rude  platform,  he  noticed  that  one 
of  his  friends  had  been  attacked  by  a  ruffianly  fellow  and  was 
getting  worsted.  Now  when  one  of  his  friends  was  in  trouble 
it  was  Lincoln's  first  thought  to  go  at  once  to  his  rescue.  So, 
hastily  descending  from  the  platform,  he  bounded  through  the 
crowd,  seized  the  fellow  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck,  and  flung 
him  ten  feet  away.  The  crowd  cheered  lustily  as  he  calmly 
returned  to  the  platform,  and,  throwing  off  his  hat,  began  to 
speak.  The  frontier  appreciated  a  man  who  could  use  his 
muscle  as  well  as  his  brain. 

"Fellow-citizens,"  said  young  Lincoln,  "I  presume  you  all 
know  who  I  am.  I  am  humble  Abraham  Lincoln.  I  have  been 
solicited  by  many  friends  to  become  a  candidate  for  the  Legis- 
lature. My  politics  are  short  and  sweet,  like  the  old  woman's 
dance.  I  am  in  favor  of  a  national  bank.  I  am  in  favor  of  the 
internal  improvement  system  and  a  high  protective  tariff. 
These  are  my  sentiments  and  political  principles.  If  elected,  I 
shall  be  thankful;  if  not  it  will  be  all  the  same." 

These  sentiments  and  principles  were  exactly  opposed  to 
the  party  in  power.  Illinois  was  largely  Democratic,  and  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  was  a  Whig.  He  had  been  one  since  he  first  read 
the  Life  of  Henry  Clay.  The  papers  he  read  were  the  "Louis- 
ville Journal,"   and  the  "Sangamon  Journal,"  both  Whig. 


154  LINCOLN 

These  and  other  things  confirmed  him  in  his  principles.  He 
was  poor,  and  comparatively  unknown,  but  he  bravely  cast 
his  lot  in  with  the  minority,  be  the  consequences  what  they 
might. 

It  followed  as  a  matter  of  course  when  the  election  came 
off  on  August  6th  that  he  was  defeated.  "The  only  time  that 
I  was  ever  defeated  on  the  direct  vote  of  the  people,"  he  said 
in  after  years.  But  there  were  consolations  in  his  defeat.  His 
own  district  of  New  Salem  had  supported  him  heartily.  Of 
the  entire  vote  in  the  precinct  he  received  all  but  three.  Also 
he  had  made  many  friends.  His  speeches  had  brought  him  in 
contact  with  a  number  of  the  prominent  men  of  that  part  of 
the  State  who  were  impressed  by  his  individuality  and  origi- 
nality. Among  these  were  Stephen  T.  Logan,  Major  Stuart, 
and  William  Butler;  all  Whigs  and  all  Kentuckians  like  him- 
self. It  is  said  that  Judge  Logan,  coming  into  the  crowd  one 
day  where  young  Lincoln  was  speaking,  asked: 

"Who  is  that  tall,  gawky,  awkward  looking  young  fellow?" 

"That,"  replied  Major  John  Stuart  who  was  with  him,  "is 
Abraham  Lincoln." 

"And  he  is  presenting  himself  as  a  candidate  to  the  people? 
Why,  his  pantaloons  don't  reach  his  shoes  by  six  inches!"  But 
after  listening  a  while  the  judge  became  much  interested  in  the 
young  man,  and  when  he  had  finished  speaking,  remarked: 
"That  was  a  very  sensible  speech.  There  is  more  to  that  young 
fellow  than  his  appearance  would  indicate." 

Then,  too,  Abraham  had  gained  the  confidence  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  increased  his  own,  so  that  he  was  not  soured  nor  em- 
bittered, nor  were  his  hopes  dampened.  But  the  election  was 
over,  and  Abraham,  "adrift  once  more,"  was  compelled  to 
look  for  work. 


POSTMASTER  AND  SURVEYOR     155 

Some  of  his  friends  advised  him  to  become  a  blacksmith, 
and  he  considered  this  seriously  for  a  time;  but  it  was  a  trade 
which  would  afford  little  leisure  for  study,  and  he  wanted  the 
knowledge  that  books  would  give  him.  He  was  strongly  drawn 
to  mercantile  pursuits  which  was  but  natural  considering  the 
fact  that  clerking  was  the  only  thing  in  which  he  had  ever  en- 
gaged that  was  not  hard  manual  labor,  and  that  gave  him 
time  for  study.  Therefore,  he  tried  to  get  a  place  as  clerk ;  but 
there  were  more  stores  in  New  Salem  than  there  were  cus- 
tomers for  them,  so  none  was  in  need  of  clerks.  Thoughtfully 
the  young  man  considered  the  few  opportunities  the  village 
afforded.  He  did  not  wish  to  leave  it.  All  his  hopes  were  based 
on  its  people  every  one  of  whom  was  his  friend.  There  seemed 
nothing  for  him  but  to  go  back  to  the  axe  and  farm  work. 

Matters  were  in  this  state  when,  one  day,  Rowan  Herndon, 
at  whose  house  he  was  boarding,  asked  him  suddenly: 

"Abe,  have  you  found  anything  yet?" 

"No,"  replied  Abe.  "I  went  to  see  Hill  and  McNeil  as  you 
advised  me  to,  but,  though  their  business  is  prosperous,  they 
can  attend  to  it  themselves.  Neither  Rutledge  nor  Radford  has 
custom  enough  to  justify  employing  a  clerk,  which  leaves  only 
your  store.  And  we've  thrashed  that  out." 

"Did  you  ever  think  of  buying  a  store,  Abe?  Or  don't  you 
want  to  do  that?" 

Abe  gasped.  "I'm  like  the  Irishman,  Row,"  he  answered 
when  he  had  recovered  himself.  "Some  one  said  to  him,  'Pat, 
you  have  a  pen,  why  don't  you  buy  a  pig?  Or  haven't  you  got 
the  inclination?'  'Faith,'  said  Pat,  'the  inclination's  all  right; 
it's  money  I  lack.'  " 

"Well,  that  could  be  managed,"  spoke  Rowan  Herndon 
earnestly.  "Now  see  here,  Abe:  you  know  Brother  Jim  sold 


156  LINCOLN 

his  half  interest  in  our  business  to  Bill  Berry?  Now  Bill  and 
I  don't  work  well  together.  In  fact,  we  don't  get  along  at  all. 
He  wants  to  boss,  and  I  think  I  know  a  little  more  about  the 
business  than  he  does;  and  there  it  is.  If  you  think  you  can  get 
along  with  Bill  I'll  be  glad  to  sell  you  my  half  interest  in  the 
firm  and  take  your  notes  for  pay." 

"Do  you  mean  that,  Rowan?"  asked  Abraham  amazed. 

"I  certainly  do.  I  believe  that  you  are  thoroughly  honest, 
and  there  is  no  one  that  I  would  rather  have  in  my  place  than 
you.  There's  a  living  in  the  store,  Abe,  and  something  beside, 
if  it  is  well  managed.  Will  you  take  it?" 

"Yes;  and  be  eternally  grateful  to  you,  Row,"  answered  the 
young  man  quickly. 

"Then  it's  all  settled,"  laughed  Rowan  Herndon.  "We'll 
draw  up  the  notes,  and  you  can  take  possession  at  once." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  the  firm  of  Berry  &  Lincoln  hung 
out  its  sign  late  in  August,  and  were  ready  for  business.  It 
ought  to  have  prospered,  but  Abraham  soon  found  that  it  was 
an  unfortunate  partnership.  Berry  was  not  only  bossy,  which 
he  could  have  borne,  but  he  drank  and  gambled,  and  squan- 
dered a  part  of  the  firm's  assets.  Abraham  found  himself  with 
plenty  of  leisure  for  reading  and  study. 

One  day  Jack  Kelso,  a  famous  fisherman  and  hunter,  the 
ne'er-do-well  of  the  village,  so  called  because  he  had  no  steady 
employment,  came  into  the  store.  He  was  familiar  with  good 
literature,  and  had  made  a  sort  of  reputation  by  repeating 
incessantly  passages  of  poetry.  He  greeted  Abraham  af- 
fectionately. 

'  'Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent  made  glorious  sum- 
mer' by  sight  of  you,  Abe  Lincoln.  My  wife  sent  me  here  to 
buy  some  sugar;  also,  and  to-wit,  to  invite  you  to  come  over 


POSTMASTER  AND  SURVEYOR  157 

tonight.  She  has  two  stylish  young  women  from  Springfield 
visiting  her,  and  some  boys  and  girls  are  coming  to  spend  the 
evening.  There  are  to  be  games  and  a  candy  pull.  'The  daintiest 
last  to  make  the  end  most  sweet.'  " 

Abraham  glanced  down  at  his  ill-fitting  clothing,  and  shook 
his  head.  He  was  becoming  shy  in  the  presence  of  ladies,  due 
partly  to  his  unpretentious  appearance,  and  partly  to  pure 
bashfulness.  Kelso's  eyes  followed  his  glance,  and  he  gave  a 
great  laugh. 

"Hoot,  mon,"  he  cried.  "What  matters  the  attire?  Listen  to 
Bobby  Burns: 

"  'What  though  on  homely  fare  we  dine, 

Wear  hoddin  gray,  and  a'  that ; 
Gie  fools  their  silks,  and  knaves  their  wine, 

A  man'  a  man  for  a'  that ! 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

Their  tinsel  show,  and  a'  that ; 
The  honest  man,  though  e'er  sae  poor, 

Is  king  o'  men  for  a'  that.'  " 

Abraham  listened  earnestly.  "That's  good,"  he  commented. 
"Who  is,  or  was,  Bobby  Burns?" 

"A  ploughboy,  Abe.  Born  in  ignorance  and  poverty,  yet  he 
pulled  himself  up  until  he  became  the  poet  of  the  people. 
You  should  read  him.  I'll  lend  you  his  poems.  And  you'll  come 
tonight?" 

"I  fear  I'll  cut  a  sorry  figure,"  began  Abraham  when  Kelso 
interrupted  him — 

"  'Our  doubts  are  traitors, 
And  make  us  lose  the  good  we  oft  might  win 
By  fearing  to  attempt.'  " 


158  LINCOLN 

"Did  Bobby  Burns  write  that  too,  Jack?" 

"Abe,  don't  you  ever  read  the  poets?  No.  That's  from  the 
Divine  Bard — William  Shakespeare.  Don't  tell  me  that  you 
haven't  read  Shakespeare?" 

"Well,  I  haven't,  Jack;  though  I'd  like  to  do  so,  if  that  is 
a  specimen  of  his  writing." 

"Ah,  lad!  that's  but  a  small  specimen.  The  wisdom  of  the 
ages  lies  between  the  covers  of  a  book  of  his  plays.  Why,  Abe, 
with  the  Bible  and  Shakespeare  a  man  has  the  world  of  litera- 
ture in  his  grasp.  You  shall  become  acquainted  with  him  at 
once." 

"When  did  he  live,  Jack?" 

"In  the  last  part  of  the  sixteenth  and  the  early  part  of  the 
seventeenth  centuries.  But,  as  rare  Ben  Jonson  said — 'He  was 
not  of  an  age,  but  for  all  time." 

"That's  a  fine  thing  to  say  of  a  man,"  mused  young  Lincoln 
a  far-off  look  in  his  eyes.  He  did  not  dream  that  the  same 
thing  would  be  said  of  him  at  a  future  day.  "Well,  I'll  come, 
Jack;  if  only  to  get  those  two  books." 

And  thus  was  Abraham  Lincoln  introduced  to  Shakespeare 
and  Burns.  He  was  much  with  Jack  Kelso,  and  the  tastes 
formed  in  his  company  clung  to  him  through  life.  A  book  was 
always  with  him,  and  he  would  apply  himself  to  it  as  oppor- 
tunity offered.  He  was  reading  Hamlet  one  morning,  and  had 
stopped  to  ponder  the  words: 

"There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  will," 

when  a  wagon  stopped  in  front  of  the  store,  and  some  one 
called : 
"Hello!" 


POSTMASTER  AND  SURVEYOR     159 

Abraham  laid  down  his  book,  and  went  to  the  door.  The 
wagon  contained  a  man,  his  family,  and  his  household  plunder. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir?"  he  asked. 

"First,  I  want  to  buy  some  feed  for  my  horses,"  replied  the 
man.  "Then,  I  want  to  get  a  good  hot  meal  for  my  family.  Can 
you  tell  me  where  I  can  get  them?" 

"The  first  you  can  get  right  here,  sir.  The  second  you  can 
obtain  at  the  tavern  a  little  distance  down  the  road.  I  can  put 
the  feed  in  for  you  now,  or  wait  until  you  come  back  from 
the  tavern." 

"I'll  take  it  now,  I  reckon,"  answered  the  man  getting  down 
from  the  seat  and  going  to  the  back  end  of  the  wagon.  "Then 
when  we  load  up  at  the  tavern  we're  ready  to  start.  Consarn 
that  barrel!"  he  ejaculated  as  a  barrel  tumbled  from  its  place 
among  the  plunder  to  the  ground.  "That's  the  third  time  that 
pesky  thing  has  tumbled  down  on  me.  Say,  mister,  what'll  you 
give  me  for  it  ?  I  can't  have  it  falling  down  on  me  all  the  way  out 
West.  Now  there's  nothing  of  any  special  value  in  it,  and  I  just 
can't  tote  it  any  longer." 

Lincoln  hesitated.  He  did  not  want  the  barrel,  but  to  oblige 
the  man  he  said — "How  would  four  bits  do?" 

"It'll  do  fine,"  replied  the  other  quickly.  "Now  how  about 
that  feed?" 

Abraham  procured  the  feed,  rolled  the  barrel  into  the  back 
part  of  the  store  and  forgot  all  about  it.  Sometime  after,  in 
overhauling  things,  he  came  upon  the  barrel,  and  emptying  it 
upon  the  floor  to  see  what  it  contained,  he  found  at  the  bottom 
of  the  rubbish  a  complete  edition  of  Blackstone's  Commen- 
taries on  the  Laws  of  England.  It  was  the  one  book  that  a 
young  man  studying  law  should  read  first. 

Abraham  drew  a  long  breath,  opened  the  book,  and  began 


160  LINCOLN 

to  read.  He  had  plenty  of  time  for  customers  were  becoming 
few  and  far  between.  The  more  he  read  the  more  intensely  in- 
terested he  became.  Never  had  his  mind  been  so  thoroughly 
roused.  He  had  not  paid  much  attention  to  law  courts  since 
leaving  Indiana.  There  had  been  small  opportunity  to  do  so, 
but  always  there  had  lurked  in  his  subconscious  mind  the  de- 
sire to  become  a  lawyer.  It  will  be  remembered  that  when  he 
was  at  Posey's  Landing  on  the  Ohio  River  he  frequently 
rowed  across  and  listened  while  Squire  Pate  cleared  his  docket. 
Now  it  all  came  back  to  him,  and  slowly  the  determination  to 
become  a  lawyer  crystallized  in  his  mind.  He  could  make  a 
start  by  mastering  Blackstone:  what  would  follow  must  be 
left  to  future  developments. 

At  present  he  was  confronted  by  the  stern  necessity  of  mak- 
ing money  enough  to  meet  his  living  expenses.  Rowan  Hern- 
don  had  removed  to  the  country,  and  Abraham  was  staying  at 
Rutledge's  Tavern ;  a  running  board  bill  must  be  provided  for. 
The  affairs  of  Berry  &  Lincoln  became  more  and  more  un- 
satisfactory as  the  fall  and  winter  went  by.  Berry  was  drink- 
ing to  such  an  extent  that  his  health  was  being  undermined, 
and  Abraham  had  begun  to  realize  that  he  himself  was  not 
adapted  to  mercantile  pursuits.  By  the  spring  of  1833  it  was 
evident  that  something  had  to  be  done.  Once  more  Abraham 
was  forced  to  take  any  odd  work  he  could  get.  He  worked  as 
day  laborer,  split  rails,  looked  after  the  mill,  helped  in  the 
other  stores  when  there  was  need  of  extra  help,  and  harvested 
hay  and  oats.  In  May  came  an  unexpected  honor :  he  was  com- 
missioned postmaster  at  New  Salem,  the  first  office  he  ever 
held  under  the  Federal  Government.  He  was  a  Whig,  yet  he 
was  appointed  under  a  Democratic  administration.  But  the 
office  was  too  insignificant  to  be  considered  politically,  and  was 


POSTMASTER  AND  SURVEYOR     161 

given  to  him  because  some  his  Democratic  friends  desired 
that  it  be  done ;  also  he  was  the  only  one  willing  to  take  it  who 
could  make  out  the  returns.  The  duties  of  the  new  office  were 
not  arduous.  The  mail  arrived  once  a  week,  and  so  few  were 
the  letters  that  Abraham  placed  them  in  his  hat,  and  when- 
ever he  went  out  to  work  delivered  them  to  the  people  along 
the  way. 

Both  Berry  and  Lincoln  were  by  this  time  thoroughly  dis- 
couraged by  their  mercantile  venture  and  when  two  brothers, 
Alexander  and  William  Trent,  asked  if  the  store  was  for  sale, 
an  affirmative  answer  was  eagerly  given.  A  price  was  agreed 
upon  and  the  sale  made;  but,  as  neither  of  the  brothers  had 
any  money,  their  notes  were  accepted  for  the  purchase  price, 
and  the  store  was  turned  over  to  them. 

With  the  postoffice  and  by  dint  of  sundry  jobs  Abraham 
managed  to  keep  his  head  above  water,  but  it  was  a  scant  and 
uncertain  support,  and  when  in  the  fall  he  had  an  opportunity 
to  learn  surveying  he  accepted  it  eagerly.  Some  of  his  friends 
had  recommended  him  to  John  Calhoun  as  suitable  material 
for  an  assistant.  Mr.  Calhoun  was  then  surveyor  of  the  county, 
and  was  overwhelmed  with  work.  He  had  no  personal  ac- 
quaintance with  young  Lincoln,  but  he  had  heard  of  him  as 
an  honest,  intelligent,  and  trustworthy  young  man.  So,  one 
day,  he  sent  him  word  that  he  had  decided  to  appoint  him  as 
deputy-surveyor  if  he  would  accept  the  position. 

Abraham  was  in  the  woods  chopping  trees  when  Pollard 
Simmons,  a  man  living  in  the  vicinity  of  New  Salem,  brought 
him  the  news.  The  two  sat  down  together  on  a  log,  and  Sim- 
mons told  the  young  man  what  Calhoun  had  said.  Abe  sat 
silent  for  a  moment,  considering  the  matter.  Calhoun  was  a 
Democrat  and  he  was  a  Whig. 


162  LINCOLN 

"I  should  like  the  position,"  he  said  at  length.  "I'd  take  it 
in  a  minute  if  I  could  be  sure  that  there  was  no  political  obliga- 
tion involved  in  it.  I  want  to  be  free  in  my  political  actions. 
I  don't  want  to  engage  in  anything  that  will  abridge  the  ex- 
pression of  my  sentiments." 

"I  don't  think  that  Mr.  Calhoun  wants  that  either,  Abe," 
said  Pollard  earnestly.  "He  needs  help  the  worst  way  what 
with  the  people  piling  in  here  from  the  East,  and  wanting  their 
lands  surveyed  all  to  oncet.  'Sides,  there's  new  towns  springing 
up  everywhere,  and  they  need  laying  out.  There  ain't  many 
young  fellows  hereabout  that's  got  your  ability,  Abe,  and  Cal- 
houn knows  it.  Why  don't  you  go  down  and  talk  it  over  with 
him?" 

"I  shall,  Pollard.  It  was  mighty  good  of  you  to  walk  all 
the  way  out  here  to  tell  me  about  it." 

"Shucks!  that's  nothing,  Abe.  You'd  do  as  much  for  me  any 
day." 

Which  was  true.  Abraham  Lincoln  was  genial  and  obliging, 
instinctively  doing  the  thing  which  he  saw  would  help  another, 
no  matter  how  trivial  or  homely  it  was — from  rocking  a  baby 
for  a  tired  mother,  to  roofing  a  barn.  His  strong  arm  was  al- 
ways at  the  disposal  of  the  poor  and  needy;  and  it  was  said  of 
him,  "with  a  graphic  variation  of  a  well-known  text,  'that  he 
visited  the  fatherless  and  the  widow  and  chopped  their  wood.' ' 

He  lost  no  time  in  going  to  see  Calhoun,  who  lived  in  Spring- 
field. He  found  him  to  be  a  brave,  intellectual,  cultivated 
Yankee  gentleman  who  at  once  gave  him  the  assurance  he 
wished  regarding  his  freedom  of  speech  and  opinions.  There 
remained  but  one  difficulty:  he,  Abraham,  knew  absolutely 
nothing  about  surveying.  But  Mr.  Calhoun  had  understood 
this,  and  agreed  that  he  should  have  time  to  learn,  furnishing 


POSTMASTER  AND  SURVEYOR     163 

him  with  books  for  that  purpose,  directing  him  to  study  them 
until  he  felt  competent  to  begin  work. 

Abraham  began  with  "The  Theory  and  Practice  of  Sur- 
veying; Containing  All  the  Instructions  Requisite  for  the 
Skilful  Practice  of  this  Art,  By  Robert  Gibson,"  and  sought 
Mentor  Graham  to  help  him.  The  schoolmaster  was  ever  his 
good  friend,  aiding  him  in  whatever  way  he  could.  Now  he 
had  Lincoln  come  to  his  own  house  that  they  might  have 
more  time  together.  Abraham  threw  himself  into  the  study 
with  such  intense  application  that  his  friends  became  greatly 
concerned  for  his  health.  He  worked  literally  day  and  night, 
sitting  up  night  after  night  until  the  crowing  of  the  cock 
warned  him  of  the  coming  of  dawn.  In  six  weeks  he  had  mas- 
tered the  subject,  and  reported  to  Mr.  Calhoun  for  duty.  He 
was  at  once  assigned  to  the  territory  in  the  northern  part  of 
the  county,  and  became  an  excellent  surveyor,  his  surveys  be- 
ing exact  and  just,  and  so  manifestly  fair  that  he  was  often 
chosen  to  settle  disputed  questions  of  corners  and  measure- 
ments. He  was  paid  three  dollars  a  day  when  he  worked,  and 
with  the  revenue  from  the  postoffice  seemed  in  a  fair  way  to  do 
well.  He  could  live  decently  and  comfortably,  and  have  time 
for  study  also.  All  at  once  the  prospects  of  easy  times  ahead 
were  again  brought  to  naught. 

One  morning  as  he  came  into  New  Salem  after  a  few  days' 
absence  surveying,  he  found  that  the  Trent  Brothers  had  gone ; 
skipped  out  for  parts  unknown  leaving  their  notes  unpaid,  and 
the  store  in  the  hands  of  creditors.  Misfortunes  never  come 
singly,  as  he  soon  realized,  for  the  disappearance  of  the  Trents 
was  followed  by  the  death  of  William  Berry,  his  former  part- 
ner. This  left  young  Lincoln  with  all  the  debts  of  the  firm  to 
meet.  He  was  appalled.  The  total  was  eleven  hundred  dollars, 


164  LINCOLN 

and  it  seemed  the  work  of  a  lifetime  to  earn  by  labor  so  large 
an  amount  besides  his  living.  It  is  true  that  he  might  "clear 
out,"  as  was  too  commonly  done  by  men  who  could  not  meet 
their  obligations;  but  that  did  not  accord  with  his  sense  of 
honor.  There  was  but  one  way.  Quietly  he  went  to  the  credi- 
tors, and  told  them  that  if  they  would  let  him  alone  he  would 
give  them  all  he  could  earn  over  his  living,  as  fast  as  he  could 
earn  it.  It  was  a  great  obstacle  in  his  pathway,  but  he  bore  it 
cheerfully;  though  at  times  it  weighed  upon  him  so  heavily 
that  both  he  and  his  friends  referred  to  it  as  the  "National 
Debt."  Unlike  most  national  debts,  however,  it  was  eventually 
paid,  together  with  the  interest  at  the  high  rates  then  prevail- 
ing, though  it  took  many  years  to  do  it. 

With  a  single  exception  his  creditors  were  lenient.  One  of 
the  notes  given  by  him  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  Mr.  Van  Bergen, 
who,  when  it  fell  due,  brought  suit  against  him.  The  amount 
of  the  judgment  was  more  than  Abraham  could  pay,  and  his 
personal  effects  were  levied  upon.  These  consisted  of  his  horse 
— he  had  had  to  buy  one  on  account  of  the  long  distances  he 
must  travel  in  surveying — saddle  and  bridle,  and  surveying 
instruments. 

Abraham  did  not  attend  the  sale.  He  was  so  hopeless  that  he 
could  not.  He  stayed  in  his  room  at  the  tavern,  and  tried  to 
study.  It  was  all  in  vain.  Black  despair  settled  over  him.  So 
sunk  in  melancholy  was  he  that  he  did  not  hear  a  knock  on  the 
door,  nor  did  he  look  around  when  it  opened  softly,  until  a 
hand  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  a  voice  exclaimed 
heartily : 

"Howdy,  Abe!  Thought  I'd  drop  in  to  see  how  you  was  git- 
ting  along." 

"Why,  howdy,  Uncle  Jimmy,"  cried  the  young  man  turning 


POSTMASTER  AND  SURVEYOR,     165 

to  greet  James  Short,  a  well-to-do  farmer  living  on  Sand 
Ridge  a  few  miles  north  of  New  Salem.  "Sit  down.  Smoke  if 
you  like." 

"Not  now,  Abe.  I  can  only  stay  a  few  minutes.  Come  out- 
side. There's  something  out  there  I  want  to  show  you." 

Glad  of  any  diversion  Abraham  obediently  followed  him 
outside  the  door  of  the  tavern,  and  there,  saddled  and  bridled, 
stood  his  horse,  the  surveying  instruments  lying  on  the  ground 
beside  him.  Amazed,  Abraham  stared  at  the  outfit. 

"I  heard  of  your  trouble,  and  I  bought  'em  in  for  you,  Abe," 
spoke  James  Short  genially.  "Take  them,  and  pay  for  them 
when  you  get  ready;  if  you  never  get  ready,  it's  all  the  same 
to  me." 

For  a  moment  Lincoln  could  not  speak.  His  eyes  were  rilled 
with  tears.  He  could  only  grasp  his  friend's  hand,  and  wring 
it  hard. 

"I'll  never  forget  this,  Uncle  Jimmy,"  he  said,  conquering 
his  emotion.  He  never  did.  He  not  only  paid  back  the  money 
spent,  but  years  later  when  James  Short  was  himself  in  finan- 
cial straits,  and  had  gone  West  to  recoup  his  fortunes,  Lin- 
coln, then  President,  heard  of  it,  and  sent  him  a  Commission 
as  an  Indian  Agent. 

But  the  kindness  of  James  Short  was  not  exceptional  in 
Abraham  Lincoln's  New  Salem  career.  So  beloved  had  he  be- 
come that  there  was  hardly  a  man  or  woman  in  the  community 
who  would  not  have  been  glad  to  have  done  as  much,  if  they 
could.  There  was  never  an  hour  so  dark  that  some  friend  did 
not  come  forward  to  help  him. 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 


A  PLUNGE  INTO  POLITICS 


MattePvS  now  began  to  move  smoothly  for  Abraham.  So 
proficient  did  he  become  as  a  surveyor  that  he  soon  found  his 
time  well  employed  with  private  business  as  well  as  public. 
One  of  his  first  pieces  of  private  surveying  was  done  for  Rus- 
sell Godby,  a  farmer  for  whom  he  had  worked  the  preceding 
summer.  For  his  pay  Godby  gave  him  two  buckskins  which 
Hannah  Armstrong  "foxed"  on  his  breeches  so  that  the  briers 
would  not  wear  them  out. 

He  began  to  live  comfortably  and  to  pay  something  on  his 
indebtedness  as  well.  The  surveying,  too,  was  bringing  him 
new  friends.  It  carried  him  over  a  large  part  of  the  county, 
thereby  furnishing  an  opportunity  of  extending  his  acquaint- 
ance; and  new  acquaintances  meant  new  friends,  for  with 
Abraham  Lincoln  the  one  followed  the  other.  The  office  of 
surveyor  was  an  important  one  in  the  county  and  gave  him 
standing,  but  he  was  made  welcome  wherever  his  duties  took 
him  on  account  of  his  personal  qualities. 

It  was  remarkable  how  popular  he  was  becoming.  This  was 
due  partly  to  his  willingness  to  lend  a  hand  indoors  as  well  as 
out,  to  his  ability  to  tell  a  good  story,  to  his  original  and  unique 

166 


A  PLUNGE  INTO  POLITICS  167 

sayings,  to  his  love  of  fairness  and  justness,  to  his  extraor- 
dinary physical  prowess,  to  his  tolerance  of  all  intelligent 
opinion,  and  above  all,  to  his  sincere  and  unaffected  interest  in 
the  lives  of  other  people;  their  difficulties  and  sorrows. 

He  was  a  combination  rare  on  the  frontier,  and  dimly  men 
began  to  feel  that  he  was  destined  for  a  great  future.  It  began 
to  be  remarked  that  he  was  a  "right  smart  young  man;  that  it 
would  not  be  at  all  surprising  if  Abe  Lincoln  got  to  be  gov- 
ernor some  day."  In  the  spring  of  1834,  therefore,  it  was  taken 
as  a  matter  of  course  that  he  would  again  be  a  candidate  for 
the  Legislature,  and  men  began  to  speak  to  him  concerning 
the  matter.  Young  Lincoln  was  gratified,  but  he  was  uncertain 
as  to  whether  he  ought  to  make  the  canvass.  He  felt  that  he 
would  like  to  consult  with  some  of  the  other  candidates  before 
announcing  himself.  Accordingly,  he  went  to  Springfield  and 
sought  Major  John  T.  Stuart,  who  had  been  a  comrade  in  the 
Black  Hawk  War. 

"I  am  sure  of  the  united  support  of  the  Whigs,  Stuart," 
he  said  as  he  laid  the  matter  before  young  Stuart  who  was 
a  candidate  for  re-election  to  the  Assembly.  "Some  of  the 
Democrats  will  vote  for  me  too,  I  know;  but  I  don't  know 
whether  I  ought  to  try  again  for  the  place  or  not.  It  might  be 
wiser  to  wait  for  a  future  election." 

"Make  the  canvass  now  by  all  means,  Lincoln,"  advised 
Stuart  generously,  although  he  knew  that  by  encouraging  Lin- 
coln's candidacy  he  was  endangering  his  own  election.  "You 
made  a  good  run  last  time,  and  the  people  have  not  forgotten 
it.  There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  you  should  not  run 
again.  I  feel  sure  that  you  will  succeed  in  being  elected  this 
time.  And  by  the  way!  I've  been  intending  to  talk  to  you  for 
some  time.  Have  you  ever  thought  of  becoming  a  lawyer?" 


168  LINCOLN 

"Why,  yes;"  stammered  Abraham  taken  quite  by  surprise. 
"I  have,  in  a  sort  of  way.  I  have  read  Blackstone's  'Commen- 
taries' through  several  times.  That's  as  far  as  I  have  gotten." 

"A  sort  of  a  way  won't  do,  Lincoln.  You  have  it  in  you  to 
make  a  good  lawyer,  but  'The  law  is  a  jealous  mistress.'  It 
crowds  everything  else  out  when  you  really  go  at  it  in  earnest. 
You  should  make  a  regular  business  of  it  as  you  have  done 
with  surveying." 

"I'd  like  to  do  it  the  worst  way,  Stuart;  but  I  can't.  I've 
always  had  a  hankering  to  be  a  lawyer,  but  I  can't  afford  to 
buy  the  necessary  books,  and  it  is  out  of  the  question  for  me 
to  give  up  work  and  go  into  a  lawyer's  office." 

"You  may  get  all  the  books  you  need  from  my  office,"  Stuart 
told  him  earnestly.  He  was  a  rising  lawyer,  well  established  in 
Springfield,  and  much  interested  in  his  former  comrade  of  the 
Spy  Battalion.  "Make  the  canvass,  and  after  it  is  over  start 
in  on  the  law  in  earnest.  I  should  like  to  be  of  use  to  you  in 
establishing  you  in  the  profession." 

"Thank  you,  Stuart.  I  shall  be  glad  to  avail  myself  of  any 
aid  you  can  give  me,"  said  Lincoln  gratefully. 

After  this  interview  he  announced  himself  as  a  candidate, 
and  spent  much  of  the  summer  of  1834  "electioneering."  It 
was,  of  course,  on  a  much  larger  scale  than  the  canvass  he  had 
made  two  years  previously,  but  similar  in  other  respects.  In 
company  with  the  other  candidates  he  rode  up  and  down  the 
county  making  speeches  wherever  the  people  gathered.  Some- 
times he  rode  alone — over  the  broad  prairies,  flooded  with  ver- 
dure, the  air  vibrant  with  the  song  of  birds  and  the  call  of  the 
wild-fowl,  and  "electioneered,"  as  it  was  called,  from  farm  to 
farm.  On  one  of  these  latter  occasions  he  went  to  the  house 
of  his  friend,  Rowan  Herndon,  during  harvest  when  there 


Lincoln  Told  Them  His  Ideas  on  the  Leading  Questions  of  the  Day 


A  PLUNGE  INTO  POLITICS  169 

were  a  large  number  of  men  at  work  in  the  field.  Rowan  Hern- 
don  called  the  men  together,  and  introduced  Lincoln,  saying: 

"Men,  this  is  Abraham  Lincoln.  He  is  a  candidate  for  the 
Legislature,  and  he  would  like  to  tell  you  his  views  on  local 
and  general  matters.  He  wants  to  know  if  you  would  like  to 
listen  to  him?" 

The  men  stood  silent  for  a  moment ;  then  one  of  them  spoke : 
"It's  like  this,  Row,"  he  said.  "We  don't  mind  listening  to 
Abraham  Lincoln,  or  to  any  other  candidate ;  but  when  it  comes 
to  giving  our  votes — why  them  goes  to  the  man  who  can  labor 
same  as  us.  We  like  a  man  that  can  work,  and  beat  us  at  our 
own  kind  of  work.  The  more  he  can  do  the  better  we  like  him." 

Young  Lincoln  smiled.  Without  a  word  he  caught  hold 
of  a  cradle,  and  bending  his  long  back  over  it,  sped  across  the 
field  of  grain,  cutting  a  wide  swath.  Laughing  and  shouting 
the  men  took  up  their  cradles  and  essayed  to  follow  him,  but 
he  raced  them  back  and  forth  over  the  field,  always  holding  the 
lead.  Finally,  the  men,  out  of  breath,  stopped,  begging  him  to 
make  his  speech  while  they  rested.  This  gave  Lincoln  the  op- 
portunity he  wished,  and  he  told  them  briefly  his  ideas  on  the 
leading  questions  of  the  day,  and  what  he  thought  would  be 
best  in  the  way  of  local  improvements.  One  of  his  most  win- 
ning attributes  was  his  sincere  belief  that  Sangamon  County 
was  the  promised  land,  and  that  it  only  needed  development  to 
make  settlers  flock  into  it.  A  belief  that  always  touched  a  re- 
sponsive chord  in  his  hearers.  When  he  had  finished  speaking 
the  men  crowded  about  him,  promising  him  their  votes  eagerly. 

In  his  travels  about  the  county  Lincoln  never  failed  to  adapt 
himself  to  the  point  of  view  of  the  men  whom  he  met.  If  the 
test  for  a  candidate  was  a  feat  of  strength,  he  was  ready  to  lift 
a  weight,  throw  quoits,  or  wrestle  with  the  local  champion. 


170  LINCOLN 

One  Doctor  Barrett,  on  seeing  him  for  the  first  time,  enquired 
of  the  latter's  friends, 

"Can't  the  party  raise  any  better  material  than  that?"  But 
after  hearing  his  speech,  the  doctor's  opinion  was  considerably 
altered,  for  he  declared  that  Lincoln  filled  him  with  amaze- 
ment. "That  he  knew  more  than  all  the  other  candidates  put 
together." 

The  campaign  was  well  conducted  for  in  August  Abraham 
Lincoln  was  elected  one  of  the  four  Legislators  from  Sanga- 
mon County;  his  friend  Stuart  being  also  successful. 

After  the  election  he  went  back  to  his  surveying,  at  which 
he  had  worked  at  odd  times  through  the  summer,  and  to  his 
postoffice,  carrying  the  letters  in  his  hat  again,  and  using  Hill 
and  McNeil's  store  as  his  headquarters.  And  now  he  took  up 
the  study  of  law  in  earnest,  going  to  Springfield  to  -borrow  the 
necessary  books  from  Major  Stuart.  The  distance  between  the 
two  places  was  twenty  miles,  and  sometimes  he  rode,  but  quite 
frequently  he  walked  it.  The  country  between  Springfield  and 
New  Salem  was  a  pleasant  one,  part  prairie,  part  forest,  and 
often,  on  returning  to  the  latter  place,  young  Lincoln  would 
stop  among  the  flowers  that  billowed  the  prairie  to  read.  At 
other  times  he  lay  under  the  shade  of  a  great  oak  tree,  with 
his  feet  against  the  trunk,  and  studied.  He  liked  to  read  aloud 
and  thought  that  he  remembered  better  what  he  had  read  with 
both  eye  and  ear  taking  it  in.  Often  he  wandered  in  the  fields, 
repeating  aloud  the  points  in  his  reading.  As  Stuart  had  said 
"law  was  a  jealous  mistress,"  and  it  soon  absorbed  his  whole 
interest. 

If  he  could  become  a  lawyer,  he  told  himself,  he  believed  that, 
with  his  wide  and  growing  acquaintance,  he  could  build  up  a 
practice.  That  would  be  a  complete  settlement  of  the  problem 


A  PLUNGE  INTO  POLITICS  171 

of  his  future.  And  so  he  improved  the  opportunity  to  the 
utmost. 

Procuring  a  book  of  legal  forms  he  practiced  drawing  up 
wills,  deeds,  contracts,  and  all  sorts  of  legal  documents,  and 
the  people  of  New  Salem  and  neighborhood  soon  began  to 
come  to  him  to  perform  services  of  this  nature.  One  of  the  se- 
crets of  Abraham  Lincoln's  success  was  the  belief  that  his 
friends  and  neighbors  had  in  his  ability  to  do  anything  he  set 
out  to  do.  One  may  have  dreams  of  place  and  distinction,  but 
if  one's  friends  do  not  believe  in  the  dreams  also  they  are 
apt  to  come  to  naught.  So  dependent  is  weak  human  nature 
upon  the  approval  of  others. 

But  Lincoln's  friends  believed  in  him,  and  whenever  any  of 
them  got  into  any  legal  entanglement  it  became  usual  to  say: 
"Go  to  Abe  Lincoln.  He'll  tell  you  what  to  do.  He  always  tells 
the  right  of  the  matter."  In  this  way  the  embryo  lawyer  was 
drawn  to  act  the  part  of  advocate  before  the  village  squire, 
at  this  time  Bowling  Green.  As  there  was  no  practicing  lawyer 
nearer  than  Springfield  this  became  more  and  more  the  case. 
He  realized  that  the  experience  was  most  valuable,  and  seldom, 
if  ever,  charged  a  fee  for  his  services. 

The  summer  passed.  Cold  winds  from  the  northwest,  bring- 
ing a  freeze,  ended  the  Indian  summer  of  the  fall.  Abraham 
laid  by  his  surveying  instruments,  and  dropped  his  law  books 
to  make  preparations  for  going  to  the  Assembly  which  con- 
vened December  First  at  Vandalia,  the  capital  of  the  State. 
He  needed  clothes.  His  appearance  was  all  very  well  where 
people  knew  him,  but  to  go  among  strangers  where  external 
raiment  would  count  for  much  was  another  thing.  "The  ap- 
parel oft  proclaims  the  man,"  was  a  lesson  he  was  learning.  He 
had  made  a  living,  had  paid  on  his  indebtedness,  but  had  saved 


172  LINCOLN 

no  money.  In  his  dilemma  he  went  to  see  Coleman  Smooth — a 
man  of  means  who  had  a  farm  on  the  road  to  Springfield, 
and  who  was  his  good  friend. 

"Smooth,"  he  said  as  they  sat  by  the  fireside,  "you  voted  for 
me;  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,  Abe,"  answered  Smooth.  "I  did,  and  I  believe  that 
you'll  make  us  all  proud  of  you.  Why  did  you  ask?" 

"Because  I  need  some  money  with  which  to  go  to  Vandalia. 
I  want  to  do  credit  to  my  constituents,  and  I  can't  unless  I 
have  money  to  buy  a  suit  of  clothes,  and  to  live  in  a  manner 
befitting  a  legislator  while  I'm  there.  Will  you  lend  me  two 
hundred  dollars?" 

"Gladly,  Abe.  Of  course  you  must  maintain  the  dignity  of 
your  office.  All  of  us  want  that.  We  are  glad  to  see  you  rise 
because  we  all  believe  that  you  deserve  to  rise.  I'll  get  the 
money  and  bring  it  to  you  right  away." 

"And  I'll  return  it  just  as  soon  as  I  can,  Smooth.  You'll 
place  me  under  everlasting  obligations." 

"That's  all  right,  Abe.  I'm  glad  to  help  you  any  way  that  I 
can.  You  would  do  as  much  for  me." 

So,  when  the  day  for  departure  came  Abraham  Lincoln  ap- 
peared at  Rutledge's  Tavern,  where  he  was  to  take  the  stage, 
clad,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  times,  in  a  new  suit  of 
plain  mixed  jeans,  his  coat  being  of  the  surtout  fashion,  his 
long  legs  adequately  covered  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  All 
Clary's  Grove  and  New  Salem  turned  out  to  see  him  off.  The 
people  were  proud  of  him,  proud  of  his  learning,  his  per- 
severance, and  of  the  fact  that  he  was  one  of  them,  and  was  on 
his  way  towards  becoming  a  public  man.  They  cheered  him  as 
the  stage  started,  and  Lincoln  waved  his  long  arms  in  fare- 
well, looking  back  at  them  as  long  as  he  could  see  them. 


A  PLUNGE  INTO  POLITICS  173 

The  formation  period  was  over;  the  era  of  statesmanship 
was  beginning.  Through  her  hills,  her  woods,  her  rivers  and 
her  prairies  Nature  had  played  her  part  in  his  development. 
By  dint  of  the  scantiest  means  he  had  secured  himself  a  prac- 
tical education,  and  had  lifted  himself  out  of  the  humble  con- 
ditions by  which  his  life  had  been  surrounded.  Now  he  was  to 
be  measured  by  men  who  were  the  leaders  of  the  State.  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  had  entered  upon  the  path  of  leading  to  the  fulfill- 
ment of  his  destiny. 

Vandalia  lay  seventy-five  miles  southeast  of  New  Salem,  on 
the  Kaskaskia  River,  and  young  Lincoln  entered  the  little  capi- 
tal of  Illinois  with  mingled  feelings  of  elation  and  humility. 
He  was  elated  because  he  had  been  deemed  worthy  by  his 
friends  and  neighbors  to  represent  them  in  the  highest  law- 
making body  of  the  State;  humble,  lest  he  prove  unequal  to 
the  task. 

It  was  a  small  town  containing  about  eight  hundred  inhabi- 
tants, but  the  society  which  gathered  there  during  the  winter 
was  polished  and  elegant.  But  small  as  it  was,  it  was  much 
larger  than  any  place  that  he  had  ever  lived  in,  though  he  was 
familiar  with  Springfield  which  was  twice  as  large  as  Vandalia. 

The  Legislature  met  in  the  Court-house  which  was  furnished 
simply  with  wooden  desks  and  benches.  The  members  for  the 
most  part  were  Southerners,  or  of  Southern  blood.  Illinois 
and  Indiana  were  both  transplanted  bits  of  Kentucky,  Ten- 
nessee, and  Virginia.  Few  Eastern  men  were  to  be  seen. 

Lincoln  was  quick  to  notice  that  there  were  but  few  coon- 
skin  caps  and  buckskin  breeches.  The  majority  of  the  men  of 
the  Assembly  wore  jeans  suits  like  his  own,  although  there  were 
those  who  wore  apparel  of  rich  cloth  and  were  men  of  courtly 
manners.  He  soon  found  that  his  colleagues  were  brilliant  men. 


174  LINCOLN 

Indeed,  some  of  them  were  destined  to  be  governors,  senators, 
and  judges;  they  were  to  organize  political  parties,  and  were 
to  lead  brigades  and  divisions  in  two  great  wars  to  come. 

One  day  as  he.  sat  with  Major  Stuart  on  a  bench  under  a 
hard  maple  tree  in  the  Court-house  yard  a  small  man  passed 
them,  then  retraced  his  steps  until  he  stopped  just  in  front  of 
them. 

"I  should  like  to  speak  with  you  a  moment,  major,"  he  said. 
"That  is,  of  course,  if  you  and  your  friend  are  not  engaged  in 
conference." 

"No  conference  at  all,"  smiled  Stuart  rising.  "Just  friendly 
talk.  Before  we  leave,  however,  I  should  like  you  to  meet  with 
my  friend,  Abraham  Lincoln.  Mr.  Lincoln  is  the  new  mem- 
ber from  Sangamon.  Lincoln,  this  is  Mr.  Douglas,  Stephen  A. 
Douglas,  formerly  of  Vermont;  now  from  Morgan  County, 
Illinois." 

The  two  future  antagonists  saluted  each  other  in  a  perfunc- 
tory manner.  "Neither  seemed  to  have  any  presentiment  of  the 
future  greatness  of  the  other.  Douglas,  indeed,  it  was  evident, 
thought  little  of  the  raw  youth  from  the  Sangamon  timber;" 
and  Lincoln,  when  Stuart  returned,  asked: 

"Who  did  you  say  that  man  was?  I  don't  remember  seeing 
him  in  the  Legislature." 

"He  isn't  a  member,  Lincoln.  He  is  here  lobbying  for  the 
office  of  States  Attorney  in  the  District  where  he  lives.  John 
J.  Harding  holds  it  now.  He  is  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  from 
Vermont.  He  has  been  in  the  State  a  little  more  than  a  year, 
but  has  proved  himself  to  be  a  man  of  mettle." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  what  Stephen  Nuckles,  the  old  hard- 
shelled  Baptist  preacher,  said  about  Yankees?" 


A  PLUNGE  INTO  POLITICS  175 

"No;  I've  seen  Nuckles  often  in  Springfield,  but  I've  never 
heard  him  preach.  What  did  he  say?" 

"He  was  preaching  on  the  grace  of  the  Lord,  and  he  said: 
'It  tuks  in  the  isles  of  the  sea,  an'  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
yeth.  It  embraces  the  Esquimaux  and  the  Hottentots,  an' 
some,  my  dear  brethering,  go  so  fur  as  to  suppose  that  it  tuks 
in  the  poor  benighted  Yankees;  but  I  don't  go  so  fur.'  Now 
the  Lord  wouldn't  have  to  extend  his  grace  very  far  to  take  in 
Douglas.  He  is  the  least  man  I  ever  saw." 

"He  is  small,"  answered  Stuart  laughing  at  Lincoln's  mim- 
icry of  the  old  preacher.  "I  don't  believe  that  Douglas  would 
measure  an  inch  over  five  feet,  nor  weigh  over  a  hundred 
pounds." 

"Still,  size  doesn't  always  count.  The  biggest  barn,  if  it's 
empty,  doesn't  amount  to  much.  A  small  one  filled  is  worth 
more.  The  Assembly  is-  called,  Stuart." 

During  the  Session  Lincoln  occupied  no  especially  con- 
spicuous position,  but  he  was  keenly  alive  to  all  that  was  go- 
ing on.  He  held  his  own  respectably  among  the  legislative 
debates,  but  for  the  most  part  he  listened  to  others.  While  he 
said  little  he  took  in  everything.  He  was  assigned  to  a  place 
on  a  Committee  on  Public  Accounts  and  Expenditures.  He 
was  constantly  in  his  place,  and  faithful  to  all  the  duties  that 
developed  upon  him.  He  was  learning.  But,  before  the  Session 
was  ended,  he  had  become  acquainted  with  all  of  the  eighty- 
one  members  of  the  body,  and  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  a 
rather  quiet,  good-natured  young  man,  possessed  of  unusual 
common  sense. 

With  more  self-assurance  than  he  had  started  with  the  young 
representative  took  his  place  in  the  stage  to  return  to  New 


176  LINCOLN 

Salem  in  the  spring.  The  world  seemed  very  bright;  brighter 
than  it  ever  had  before.  The  future  was  full  of  promise.  Per- 
haps he  might  distinguish  himself  as  a  Legislator;  his  Con- 
stituency would  return  him  if  he  wished.  Perhaps  he  might 
become  a  successful  lawyer.  He  was  already  master  of  a  pro- 
fession that  gave  him  a  great  deal  of  work,  and  returned  fair 
fees;  but  greater  possibilities  were  opening  before  him. 

So,  as  he  rode  over  the  prairies  to  New  Salem,  a  smile  parted 
his  lips,  and  he  indulged  further  in  day  dreams.  For,  brighter 
than  dreams  of  place  and  distinction,  was  a  nearer  and  dearer 
one — the  dream  of  wife  and  home.  Abraham  Lincoln  was  in 
love. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 


He  loved  a  young  girl  who  was  one  of  the  daughters  of 
James  Rutledge,  the  keeper  of  the  village  tavern.  As  the  stage 
rolled  over-  the  broad  prairies  teeming  with  flowers  and  birds 
and  insects,  Lincoln's  mind  went  back  to  the  time  when  first 
he  met  her.  It  was  at  the  log  schoolhouse  where  Mentor  Gra- 
ham taught  the  children  and  young  people  of  the  little  log- 
cabin  village.  While  he  was  studying  Kirkham's  Grammar  he 
had  often  dropped  in  to  confer  with  Mr.  Graham  on  some  point 
that  bothered  him.  Often  during  these  visits  his  glance  had 
wandered  to  an  auburn-haired  maiden  with  eyes  as  blue  as  the 
violets  that  carpeted  the  meadows  in  May,  and  whose  sweet 
low  voice  set  his  heart  strings  to  quivering. 

"Don't  singe  your  wings,  Abraham,"  cautioned  Mr.  Gra- 
ham, who  soon  noticed  his  interest  in  the  girl.  "Anne  Rutledge 
is  a  mighty  nice  girl,  gentle  and  kind,  and  as  good  as  she  is 
beautiful;  but  she  is  not  for  you." 

"I  reckon  a  cat  may  look  at  a  king,"  he  had  drawled. 

"Just  so.  Look,  but  not  too  long,  nor  too  often  lest  it  be  to 
your  own  undoing.  She  is  engaged  to  be  married  to  John  Mc- 
Neil, and  has  been  for  two  years.  You  see  he  came  here  very 

177 


178  LINCOLN 

soon  after  her  father  and  Mr.  Cameron  started  the  mills,  and 
the  first  thing  he  did,  after  he  and  Samuel  Hill  opened  up 
their  store,  was  to  fall  in  love  with  Anne.  There  were  several 
other  young  men  who  did  likewise,  among  them  Hill,  McNeil's 
partner.  But  neither  Hill  nor  any  of  the  others  had  any  chance 
from  the  start;  for  it  seemed  to  be  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight 
with  Anne  and  John.  They  soon  became  engaged,  but  her 
parents  considered  Anne  too  young  to  marry,  she  was  but 
seventeen  at  the  time,  so  the  young  folks  consented  to  post- 
pone the  wedding  day  for  a  few  years.  It's  considerate  in 
John  to  be  so  sensible  about  the  matter;  but,  as  he  says  him- 
self, he  ought  to  have  something  ahead  before  taking  a  wife." 

"Well,"  had  been  Lincoln's  comment,  "a  man  can't  keep  a 
canary  without  a  cage." 

"Precisely;  so,  whenever  you  find  your  thoughts  wander- 
ing in  that  direction,  turn  them  elsewhere.  Anne  Rutledge  has 
eyes  for  no  man  but  John  McNeil." 

"He's  good  looking  enough  to  catch  any  girl's  eyes,"  laughed 
Lincoln  good-naturedly.  But  mentally  he  had  contrasted  his 
own  tall,  awkward,  ungainly  self  with  the  person  of  the  hand- 
some and  debonair  McNeil. 

That  interview  had  taken  place  while  he  was  still  a  clerk 
in  Dennis  Offutt's  store,  and  the  subject  was  never  mentioned 
between  them  again.  In  1833,  however,  after  Rowan  Hern- 
don  removed  to  the  country,  he  had  gone  to  the  tavern  to 
board,  and  there  was  daily  in  her  company.  He  found  that 
she  was  all  his  imagination  had  painted.  She  was  bright,  well 
educated  for  the  times,  and  skilled  in  all  the  arts  of  a  house- 
wife. Her  daily  presence,  her  gentleness  and  winning  tact  in 
the  home,  her  beauty,  which  was  a  village  boast,  were  as  fuel  to 
his  fancy.  But,  as  the  betrothed  of  another  man,  the  girl  was 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW       179 

set  aside  in  a  consecrated  niche,  which  he  approached  no  closer 
than  to  burn  the  incense  of  his  daily  homage  before  her.  He 
schooled  himself  to  watch  the  courtship  of  John  McNeil  cheer- 
fully, though  realizing  to  the  full  "How  bitter  a  thing  it  is  to 
look  into  happiness  through  another  man's  eyes." 

James  Rutledge  knew  nothing  of  his  prospective  son-in- 
law's  antecedents  save  that  he  had  come  from  New  York  to  the 
West  in  search  of  fortune.  As  thousands  of  others  were  doing 
the  same  thing  he  had  asked  no  questions.  He  was  a  warm- 
hearted man  of  a  large  and  generous  nature,  and,  as  McNeil 
was  industrious,  intelligent,  and  frugal,  with  a  good  head  for 
business,  he  took  him  at  his  face  value.  By  commendable  effort 
McNeil  had  accumulated  a  comfortable  amount  of  property. 
Within  three  years  he  had  acquired  a  large  farm  a  few  miles 
north  of  New  Salem,  beside  a  half  interest  in  the  leading  shore 
of  the  village.  It  was  estimated  that  he  was  worth  anywhere 
from  ten  to  twelve  thousand  dollars;  a  fair  sized  fortune  for 
the  times. 

It  was  considered  quite  natural  when,  all  at  once,  McNeil 
began  to  express  a  desire  to  see  his  people.  He  decided  sud- 
denly that  he  would  go  East  for  a  visit,  saying  that  he  hoped 
to  bring  back  his  father  and  mother,  and  to  place  them  on  his 
farm.  So  he  sold  his  interest  in  the  store  to  his  partner,  Samuel 
Hill,  and,  in  the  Spring  of  1834,  while  Lincoln  was  conducting 
his  campaign  to  enter  the  Legislature,  left  New  Salem  to  re- 
turn to  New  York,  his  native  State,  for  a  visit.  "When  I  re- 
turn," he  had  said  to  Anne  Rutledge,  "you  and  I  will  be 
married." 

So  he  had  ridden  away,  mounted  on  an  old  horse  that  had 
taken  part  in  the  Black  Hawk  War.  The  journey  overland 
from  Illinois  to  New  York  was  a  tedious  one,  beset  with  dan- 


180  LINCOLN 

gers;  the  mails,  irregular  and  slow;  so  Anne  did  not  expect  to 
hear  from  him  for  some  time.  But  when  the  days  passed  into 
weeks,  and  the  weeks  into  months,  with  no  letter  she  had  grown 
troubled  and  perplexed. 

It  had  made  Lincoln's  heart  bleed  to  see  the  light  die  out  of 
her  eyes,  and  to  see  how  pale  and  silent  she  became.  It  cut  him 
to  the  quick  that  it  was  he  who  had  to  deal  the  blow  that  caused 
her  suffering;  for  it  was  to  him,  the  postmaster  of  New  Salem, 
that  she  came  to  ask  for  letters. 

"No  letter  today,  Anne,"  he  would  say  gently  in  answer 
to  her  timid  inquiry.  "But  it's  a  long  hard  journey,  and  some- 
times the  mails  miscarry.  Your  letter  may  have  been  lost." 

"Why,  so  it  might,"  she  had  exclaimed  quickly.  "But  surely 
he  would  write  again." 

"He  will,"  he  had  assured  her.  "May  be  the  very  next  stage 
mail  will  bring  a  letter." 

And  Anne  had  gone  away  comforted. 

"I  wonder  why  McNeil  doesn't  write  to  her,"  he  mused.  "I 
wish  to  goodness  I  could  get  hold  of  him." 

At  length,  one  day  in  the  late  summer,  the  stage  brought 
the  long-looked-for  epistle.  Anne  was  in  the  store  as  soon  as 
the  stage  arrived,  for  Lincoln  was  now  making  headquarters 
for  the  postoffice  altogether  at  Hill's  store.  He  held  up  the 
missive  before  she  could  ask  for  it. 

"It's  come,  Anne,"  he  had  cried  lightly,  his  heart  responding 
unselfishly  to  the  joy  that  leaped  into  the  girl's  face.  "But  the 
postmaster  is  privileged  to  read  all  the  love  letters,  you  know? 
That's  part  of  his  duty." 

"Not  this  time,  Abe,"  she  had  responded  with  some  of  her 
old  gayety.  Hiding  the  letter  under  her  apron  she  had  run 
home. 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW       181 

"He  was  taken  with  a  fever  in  Ohio,"  she  told  Lincoln  later. 
"He  was  in  bed  for  a  month,  and  part  of  the  time  was  out  of 
his  head.  All  this  delayed  him  so  that  he  has  just  reached 
home." 

"I  thought  something  of  the  kind  must  have  happened.  I 
am  glad  that  you  have  heard,  Anne.  I  like  to  see  you  happy." 

But,  though  Anne  had  written  back  immediately,  there  was, 
strangely  enough,  another  long  interval  of  silence  before  the 
reply  came.  It  was  quite  formal;  merely  stating  that  McNeil's 
father  had  died,  and  that  he  was  settling  up  his  affairs.  One 
more  came,  and  then — no  more. 

It  began  to  be  whispered  about  the  village  that  he  would 
never  come  back ;  that  most  likely  he  had  found  some  one  whom 
he  liked  better  than  Anne  Rutledge.  Anne's  faith  died. 

"He  does  not  care  for  me  any  more,"  Anne  told  Lincoln 
one  afternoon  of  a  day  in  November,  when  the  latter  had  asked 
her  to  go  for  a  walk  with  him.  Lincoln  had  been  divinely  sym- 
pathetic, and  a  comradeship  had  grown  up  between  them  that 
was  sweet  to  him.  "And,  Abe,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  some- 
thing that  John  told  me  before  he  went  away.  I  told  my  father 
and  mother  today.  You  have  been  so  good  that  I  want  you  to 
know  it  too." 

"If  you  would  like  me  to  know,  Anne,  I  should  like  to  hear 
it.  But  don't  tell  me  unless  you  want  to." 

"I  want  you  to  know,  Abe.  John  told  me,"  she  went  on 
hurriedly  as  if  glad  to  get  it  off  her  mind,  "that  his  name  was 
not  John  McNeil,  but  John  McNamar.  He  said  that  shortly 
before  he  came  to  New  Salem  his  father  failed  in  business; 
that  he  was  the  oldest  son,  and  that  in  the  hope  of  retrieving 
the  lost  fortune  he  had  come  West  without  his  parents'  knowl- 
edge; that  he  had  changed  his  name  so  that  his  family  could 


182  LINCOLN 

not  find  him  as  he  felt  sure  that  he  could  never  accumulate 
anything  if  he  had  them  to  support.  I  believed  him,  Abe,  and 
I  did  not  tell  any  one  what  he  had  told  me  until  I  could  bear 
it  no  longer.  And,  oh  Abe,  they  are  saying  that  he  must  be  a 
thief,  or  a  murderer,  or  a  criminal  of  some  sort,  or  he  would 
not  have  changed  his  name.  That  may  be  he  has  ever  so  many 
wives.  You  don't  think  so;  do  you?" 

"No,"  he  had  replied,  concealing  his  amazement  at  the  re- 
markable story.  "John  doesn't  seem  to  me  like  a  criminal. 
Everything  may  be  just  as  he  told  you.  As  for  the  wives — 
well,  he  is  but  a  few  years  older  than  I  am,  and  I  don't  see 
how  he  could  marry  very  many.  Besides,  and  this  is  the  nub 
of  the  whole  matter — if  he  wanted  to  accumulate  money,  and 
he  did  accumulate  it,  he  couldn't  be  marrying  here,  there,  and 
everywhere;  now  could  he?  Wives  cost  money,  and  John  was 
mighty  careful  about  his  money." 

Anne  laughed  in  spite  of  herself.  A  dreary  little  laugh,  but 
still  a  laugh.  "I  never  thought  of  that,"  she  exclaimed.  "Abe 
Lincoln,  you  are  the  best  fellow  in  the  world.  You  always 
comfort  me." 

Lincoln's  heart  bounded.  More  and  more  she  was  turning 
towards  him.  Love  sometimes  comes  from  sympathy,  and  per- 
haps—  But  he  held  himself  in  hand.  The  time  was  not  ripe  to 
tell  her  what  was  in  his  heart.  He  only  said  gently: 

"I  am  glad  that  I  am  of  use  to  you,  Anne.  I  shan't  forget 
it.  I  shall  carry  those  words  with  me  to  Vandalia,  and  I  hope 
that  you  will  always  think  me  the  best  fellow  in  the  world." 

That  had  been  their  last  interview  before  he  had  gone  to 
the  Legislature.  He  had  thought  of  it  often  while  away.  He 
thought  of  it  now  on  his  way  back  to  the  village,  and  remem- 
brance brought  him  hope. 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW       183 

He  found  that  James  Rutledge  had  sold  the  tavern  to  Henry 
Onstott,  and  had  taken  his  family  to  a  farm  near  Sand  Ridge. 
Lincoln  rode  out  the  evening  of  his  arrival  to  see  Anne. 

She  was  unfeignedly  glad  to  see  him,  and  set  his  pulses  to 
beating  by  telling  him  that  she  had  missed  him  greatly  through 
the  winter.  And  he,  continuing  the  attitude  of  a  tender  friend- 
liness, told  her  of  his  life  in  Vandalia,  and  of  his  hopes  and 
plans. 

The  days  passed.  Sometimes  they  walked  by  the  singing 
Sangamon  whose  green  banks  were  fragrant  with  the  blossoms 
of  the  springtime.  If  Anne  were  in  town,  they  often  strolled 
to  the  end  of  the  long  hill  on  the  north  road,  and  gazed  over 
the  wooded  plain  running  far  to  the  east;  or  walked  under 
the  lofty  trees  of  the  forest,  the  prairies  gleaming  afar  like 
sunlit  gardens.  And  all  this  time  no  word  was  spoken  of  John 
McNamar.  One  day,  as  Lincoln  was  driving  her  home  from  the 
village,  he  broke  the  long  silence  which  had  fallen  upon  them 
by  asking  abruptly : 

"Anne,  did  you  hear  at  all  from  John  through  the  winter?" 

"No,"  she  told  him.  "And  father  says  that  even  though  he 
does  come  back  he  does  not  wish  me  to  marry  him." 

"And  you,  Anne?  How  do  you  feel  about  it?" 

"I  would  not  marry  him  now,  Abe.  I  could  not  trust  him." 

"Could  you  trust  me,  Anne?"  spoke  the  young  man  quickly, 
feeling  that  at  last  the  time  had  come  when  he  might  speak. 
"I  have  loved  you  long.  Ever  since  I  first  saw  you.  Do  you 
think  you  could  care  for  me  a  little?" 

"Why,  Abe,  I  did  not  know  you  felt  towards  me  like  that? 
I  do  care  for  you,  but  not  that  way.  I  think  I  can  never  care 
for  any  one  again.  But  if  you  love  me,  I  will  try." 

Perhaps  she  had  already  begun  to  care;  for,  as  Lincoln 


184  LINCOLN 

pressed  his  suit,  her  feeling  for  him  grew,  and  after  a  short 
time  the  attachment,  as  was  evident  to  every  one,  was  mutual. 
In  simplicity  and  sweetness  she  promised  to  be  Abraham  Lin- 
coln's wife,  and  together  they  spent  a  spring  of  dreams. 

With  some  trepidation  Lincoln  sought  James  Rutledge's 
sanction  to  the  engagement.  He  knew  that  Mr.  Rutledge  came 
of  a  distinguished  family  of  South  Carolina ;  that  one  of  them 
had  signed  the  Declaration  of  Independence;  that  another  had 
been  appointed  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States  by  Washington ;  and  that  still  another  had  been 
conspicuous  in  the  American  Congress.  They  had  always  been 
in  high  places.  James  Rutledge  himself  was  a  Southern  gentle- 
man of  the  old  school.  And  he,  Abraham  Lincoln,  was  from 
the  "scrubs,"  as  he  called  them,  and  as  poor  as  Job's  turkey. 
Much  to  his  surprise,  however,  Mr.  Rutledge  received  the  an- 
nouncement of  the  betrothal  with  pleasure. 

"You  are  a  rising  young  man,  Abraham,"  he  said.  "I  be- 
lieve that  you  have  a  great  future  before  you.  Best  of  all,  you 
are  good,  honest,  and  true.  If  you  and  Anne  love  each  other  I 
give  you  my  blessing.  I  hope  and  believe  that  your  union  will 
be  a  happy  one." 

"But  you  know,  Anne,"  Lincoln  had  said  later  to  his  be- 
trothed, "I  am  as  poor  as  they  make  them,  and  in  debt.  But 
as  soon  as  I  can  be  admitted  to  the  Bar  I  believe  that  I  shall 
be  in  a  position  to  make  a  comfortable  living  for  you." 

"I  knew  that  you  were  poor,  Abe,"  said  Anne  thoughtfully. 
"For  that  reason,  it  seems  a  wise  thing  for  us  to  wait  until 
your  studies  are  completed  before  we  marry.  Then,  too,  I 
should  like  to  go  to  school  another  year.  Brother  David  is  to 
return  to  Jacksonville  for  another  session,  and  I  should  like 


IX  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW       185 

to  go  with  him.  Father  says  that  you  will  be  a  great  man,  Abe. 
I  want  to  be  able  to  help  you." 

"You  are  an  inspiration  to  me  now,  Anne,"  he  said  tenderly. 

So  it  was  planned  that  Anne  should  go  to  Jacksonville  in 
the  autumn  and  spend  the  winter  there  in  an  academy.  Lin- 
coln was  to  devote  himself  to  his  law  studies,  and  the  next 
spring  when  he  should  be  admitted  to  the  Bar,  they  were  to 
be  married. 

The  summer  that  followed  was  a  wonderful  one  to  Abraham 
Lincoln.  A  wonderful  summer  in  happiness,  and  a  busy  one 
as  well.  Illinois  was  growing.  Everywhere  on  the  great  sea  of 
prairies  the  white  covered  wagons  of  emigrants  were  to  be  seen. 
From  New  England,  New  York,  Ohio,  and  the  States  of  the 
South  they  came ;  for  the  fame  of  the  rich  lands  had  travelled 
far  and  wide,  and  the  people  streamed  towards  them. 

Lincoln  had  been  reappointed  deputy-surveyor  by  T.  M. 
Neale,  who  had  succeeded  John  Calhoun  in  the  office,  and,  as 
land  was  in  great  request  and  there  were  many  transfers  of 
title,  he  had  more  surveying  than  he  could  do. 

He  worked  happily,  spending  every  bit  of  time  he  could 
with  Anne.  Never  had  the  future  seemed  so  bright;  the  pres- 
ent so  happy.  Owing  to  her  skill  with  the  needle  Anne  was  in 
great  request  at  the  quiltings  which  took  place  in  the  village 
and  neighborhood.  Often  Lincoln  escorted  her  to  and  from 
these  quilting-bees,  and  on  one  occasion  even  went  into  the 
house — where  men  were  considered  out  of  place — and  sat  by 
her  side  while  she  worked  on  the  quilt. 

As  he  watched  her  nimble  fingers  flying  swiftly  over  the 
quilt  he  leaned  closer  to  her,  and  sang  softly  a  stanza  of  a  then 
popular  song  of  the  day : 


186  LINCOLN 

"  'If  love  has  a  potent,  a  magical  token, 
A  talisman  ever  resistless  and  true — 
A  charm  that  is  never  evaded  or  broken, 
A  witchery  certain  the  heart  to  subdue — 
'Tis  this — and  his  armory  never  has  furnished 
So  keen  and  unerring,  or  polished  a  dart ; 
Let  beauty  direct  it,  so  pointed  and  burnished, 
And  oh !  it  is  certain  of  touching  the  heart : 
The  bright  little  needle — the  swift  flying  needle, 
The  needle  directed  by  beauty  and  art.'  " 

Anne's  fingers  momentarily  lost  their  skill,  and  she  made 
such  irregular  and  uneven  stitches  that  the  hostess  noticed  it. 

"Abe  Lincoln,"  exclaimed  the  latter  with  well  simulated 
asperity — for  all  New  Salem  was  delighted  with  the  prospect 
of  a  wedding  between  the  two — "if  you  don't  stop  making  love 
to  Anne  so  that  she  can  quilt,  we'll  send  you  away." 

"You  wouldn't  do  that;  would  you,  Aunt  Polly?"  he  asked 
looking  at  her  with  such  a  light  in  his  eyes  that  the  good  woman 
turned  hastily  back  to  her  quilt. 

"If  ever  a  man  was  in  love  that  man  is  Abe  Lincoln,"  she 
said  afterwards  in  telling  of  the  incident.  "There  he  sat,  making 
love  to  Anne  as  bold  as  brass;  and  Anne  a  blushing  her  head 
off.  I  do  declare,  I  always  thought  he  was  as  homely  as  a  mud 
fence,  but  with  that  look  on  his  face  he's  downright  hand- 
some." And  for  many  years  she  kept  the  quilt,  pointing  out 
the  memorable  stitches  to  those  who  visited  her. 

Suddenly  all  the  happy  plans  came  to  naught.  Lincoln 
rode  out  to  the  farm  at  Sand  Ridge  one  day,  after  a  short 
absence  on  a  surveying  trip,  and  found  that  Anne  was  ill  of  a 
dangerous  fever;  too  ill  to  see  him.  Rapidly  her  condition  grew 
worse,  and  Lincoln  wandered  desolately  about  New  Salem  like 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW       187 

a  man  in  a  dream,  with  no  heart  for  work  or  study.  One  day- 
late  in  August,  as  he  was  standing  at  the  door  of  the  tavern 
David  Rutledge  rode  hastily  up,  calling  as  he  came. 

"Come,  Abe!  She  wants  you.  She's  been  asking  for  you  all 
the  time,  and  father  says  for  you  to  come  quickly.  We're 
afraid — "  he  choked  and  could  say  no  more. 

With  face  like  death  Lincoln  quickly  procured  a  horse  and 
the  two  galloped  swiftly  to  the  farm  house.  Mrs.  Rutledge  met 
them  at  the  door. 

"Be  prepared  for  the  worst,  Abraham,"  she  murmured 
brokenly,  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  but  he  could  not 
speak. 

Silently  he  followed  her  up  the  stairs.  She  opened  the  door, 
and  he  passed  in.  A  long  agonized  hour  of  farewell  followed. 
Then  Lincoln  came  out,  so  woefully  distressed  that  he  passed 
unheeding  all  who  would  have  spoken  with  him.  Soon  after 
Anne  passed  into  unconsciousness,  and,  a  few  days  later,  on 
August  25,  1835,  she  died. 

The  effect  upon  Lincoln  was  terrible.  He  was  plunged  in 
the  deepest  gloom.  The  death  of  one  who  was  dear  to  him  al- 
ways affected  him  like  a  blow.  When  his  mother  died  he  had 
refused  to  be  comforted.  And  now,  with  all  the  deep,  reflective 
melancholy  which  was  his  inheritance  from  her,  he  grieved  over 
Anne.  His  work,  his  study,  his  friends  were  neglected.  He  did 
not  seem  to  care  for  anything. 

He  wandered  alone  by  the  river,  or  rambled  through  the 
woods,  or  over  the  prairies,  muttering  to  himself.  And  the 
people  of  New  Salem,  who  were  like  one  great  family,  were 
troubled  over  him,  for  he  seemed  in  the  shadow  of  madness. 
They  took  counsel,  and  his  friend,  Squire  Bowling  Green  who 
was  devoted  to  him,  resolved  to  take  him  to  his  own  home. 


188  LINCOLN 

Going  in  search  of  him  he  found  him  in  the  Concord  Ceme- 
tery, the  country  burying-ground  where  they  had  buried 
Anne,  sitting  by  her  grave.  He  looked  up  as  Squire  Green  laid 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"My  heart  is  buried  here,  Uncle  Bowling,"  he  said  bro- 
kenly. 

"Yes,  Abe;  I  know,"  spoke  the  squire  soothingly.  "But  I 
want  you  to  come  home  with  me  now.  Nancy  wants  to  see  you." 

And  Lincoln  followed  him  to  his  little  log-cabin,  under  the 
brow  of  a  big  bluff  all  covered  with  timber,  a  half  mile  from 
New  Salem.  Nancy,  the  good  wife  of  the  squire,  bustled  for- 
ward at  their  entrance. 

"Why,  Abe  Lincoln,  you  look  terribly  peaked,"  she  cried. 
"Now  you  jest  set  right  up  to  that  table,  and  get  some  hot 
vittles  inside  you.  Try  to  make  out  a  supper,  Abe.  My  men 
folks  are  so  lazy  that  they  don't  keep  me  in  firewood  so  that  I 
can  do  the  baking  I'd  like  to;  but  maybe  you  can  find  some- 
thing that  you  can  eat." 

"I'll  cut  you  some  firewood,  Aunt  Nancy,"  spoke  Lincoln. 

"There  now!  You  hear  that,  squire?  Abe  will  cut  me  some 
wood,  and  I'll  get  some  baking  done  as  is  baking." 

Thus,  with  sweet  guile  she  kept  him  cutting  wood,  picking 
apples,  digging  potatoes,  and  doing  light  chores  a'bout  the 
house,  while  her  great-hearted  husband  sought  to  lure  him 
back  to  interest  in  general  things  by  talking  of  crops,  the  petty 
cases  that  were  to  come  before  him,  and  of  the  great  future 
which  it  was  said  lay  in  store  for  the  thriving  new  town  of 
Chicago  in  the  north.  Under  their  loving  care  Lincoln  slowly 
regained  control  of  himself,  and  after  many  weeks  returned  to 
his  law  studies  and  his  surveying.  But  he  was  a  changed  man. 


IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW      189 

As  poverty  had  taught  him  the  lessons  of  brotherhood,  so 
now  in  the  crucible  of  sorrow  he  gained  insight  into  the  woes 
of  others,  and  his  heart  made  common  cause  with  all  who  suf- 
fered and  who  tried  to  rise. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

"the  long  nine" 

In  December,  1835,  the  members  of  the  Legislature  were 
called  to  an  extra  session,  and  young  Lincoln  laid  aside  his  law 
books  and  surveying  instruments  and  went  to  Vandalia.  There 
were  two  reasons  for  the  calling  of  this  extra  session.  The  popu- 
lation had  increased  so  greatly,  as  was  shown  by  a  recent  cen- 
sus, that  it  had  become  necessary  to  reapportion  the  Legisla- 
tive districts,  a  growth  which  excited  the  imagination  of  the 
State. 

The  absorbing  topic  of  the  session,  however,  was  the  Con- 
vention system  of  nominations  for  public  office  which  had  re- 
cently come  into  vogue.  Up  to  this  time  it  had  been  the  custom 
for  candidates  for  office  to  nominate  themselves,  and  so  long 
as  their  personal  qualifications  were  considered  rather  than 
their  politics  this  method  of  nomination  was  possible.  With 
party  organization,  however,  it  was  obliged  to  change;  for  the 
strength  which  the  Convention  system  gave  a  party  was  too 
great  to  be  ignored.  Its  use  became  an  absolute  necessity,  as 
it  spread  rapidly  through  the  States,  and  eventually  the  Whigs 
adopted  it  as  well  as  the  Democrats. 

It  was  a  short  session,  and  at  its  close  Lincoln  returned  to 
his  surveying  in  New  Salem.  As  a  new  Legislature  was  to  be 

190 


"THE  LONG  NINE"  191 

elected  this  year,  in  June  he  announced  himself  as  a  candidate 
for  the  Tenth  Assembly.  He  began  his  canvass  by  the  follow- 
ing circular  which  appeared  in  the  "Sangamon  Journal": 

"New  Salem,  June  13,  1836. 

"To  the  Editor  of  the  'Journal'— 

"In  your  paper  of  last  Saturday  I  see  a  communication,  over  the 
signature  of  'many  voters,'  in  which  the  candidates  who  are  announced 
in  the  'Journal'  are  called  upon  'to  show  their  hands.'  Agreed.  Here's 
mine. 

"I  go  for  all  having  the  privilege  of  government  who  assist  in  bear- 
ing its  burdens.  Consequently,  I  go  for  admitting  all  whites  to  the 
right  of  suffrage  who  pay  taxes  or  bear  arms  (by  no  means  excluding 
females). 

"If  elected,  I  shall  consider  the  whole  people  of  Sangamon  my  con- 
stituents, as  well  those  that  oppose  as  those  who  support  me. 

"While  acting  as  their  Representative,  I  shall  be  governed  by  their 
will  upon  all  subjects  upon  which  I  have  the  means  of  knowing  what 
their  will  is;  and  upon  all  others  I  shall  do  what  my  own  judgment 
teaches  me  will  best  advance  their  interests.  Whether  elected  or  not,  I 
go  for  distributing  the  proceeds  of  the  sales  of  public  lands  to  the 
several  States,  to  enable  our  State,  in  common  with  others,  to  dig 
canals  and  construct  railroads  without  borrowing  money,  and  paying 
interest  upon  it.  .   .  ." 

It  was  an  outspoken  declaration  of  principles  and  intentions, 
but  it  suited  the  temper  of  the  times.  It  was  the  custom  to  avow 
openly  one's  platform,  although  Lincoln  was  more  candid  than 
his  friends  deemed  necessary  or  wise.  It  was  also  the  custom 
to  promise  exact  obedience  to  the  will  of  the  people,  and  the 
two  questions — suffrage  for  aliens  and  the  disposition  of  the 
proceeds  of  the  sales  of  public  lands — were  the  vital  issues  of 


192  LINCOLN 

the  hour.  The  young  politician  left  no  doubt  as  to  how  he  stood 
upon  both  of  them. 

The  campaign  which  Lincoln  began  with  this  letter  was 
in  every  way  more  exciting  for  him  than  those  which  had  pre- 
ceded it.  By  the  Apportionment  Act  which  had  passed  the 
winter  before,  Sangamon  County  became  entitled  to  seven 
Representatives  and  two  Senators,  and  so  many  candidates  in- 
creased the  enthusiasm  of  political  meetings. 

There  were  joint  discussions,  and  party  lines  being  more 
sharply  drawn  than  ever  before  in  the  county,  there  were  times 
when  much  feeling  was  exhibited  among  the  candidates.  Within 
a  week  after  he  had  announced  his  candidacy,  a  Colonel  Robert 
Allen,  a  rival  candidate,  came  through  New  Salem,  during  Lin- 
coln's absence,  and  stated  publicly  that  he  was  in  possession 
of  facts  which,  if  known  to  the  public,  would  entirely  destroy 
Lincoln's  prospects  at  the  coming  election ;  but  he  declared  that 
he  thought  so  much  of  Lincoln  that  he  would  not  tell  what 
he  knew. 

Lincoln  was  much  exercised  over  the  matter  when  his  friends 
told  him  what  the  man  had  said.  He  knew  that  he  had  been 
guilty  of  no  action  upon  which  Allen  could  base  any  such 
charges;  so,  in  an  effort  to  "smoke  him  out,"  he  wrote  to  him: 

"Dear  Colonel — : 

"I  am  told  that  during  my  absence  last  week  you  passed  through 
the  place  and  stated  publicly  that  you  were  in  possession  of  a  fact  or 
facts,  which  if  known  to  the  public  would  entirely  destroy  my  pros- 
pects at  the  ensuing  election,  but  that  through  favor  to  me  you  would 
not  divulge  them.  No  one  has  needed  favors  more  than  I,  and  gen- 
erally few  have  been  less  unwilling  to  accept  them,  but  in  this  case 
favor  to  me  would  be  injustice  to  the  public,  and  therefore  I  must 
beg  your  pardon  for  declining  it. 


'THE  LONG  NINE"  193 

"I  find  myself  wholly  unable  to  form  any  conjecture  of  what  fact 
or  facts,  real  or  supposed,  you  spoke;  but  my  opinion  of  your  veracity 
will  not  permit  me  for  a  moment  to  doubt  that  you  at  least  believed 
what  you  said.  ...  I  do  hope  that  on  mature  reflection  you  will  view 
the  public  interest  as  a  paramount  consideration  and  therefore  let  the 
worst  come." 

Now  Allen  was  in  politics  the  most  unreliable  man  in  Sanga- 
mon County,  so  it  was  a  foregone  conclusion  that  he  would  not 
answer  the  letter ;  but  Lincoln  was  thoroughly  warmed  up  and 
waited  the  outcome  with  blood  in  his  eye.  However,  as  every 
one  foresaw,  the  Colonel  was  glad  to  crawl  to  cover,  and  noth- 
ing more  was  heard  from  him. 

It  was  amazing  how  Lincoln's  popularity  was  extending  to 
all  parts  of  the  county.  He  was  gaining  in  power,  too,  as  an 
orator.  He  always  had  something  to  say,  and  his  powers 
of  persuasion  were  extraordinary.  So  able  was  he  becom- 
ing in  his  speeches  that  he  was  sweeping  everything  before 
him,  and  his  opponents  realized  that  something  must  be 
done  to  stem  his  progress.  It  was  determined  to  attack  him 
publicly. 

A  few  days  before  the  election  a  great  mass  meeting  was 
held  at  Springfield  for  a  public  discussion  by  the  opposing 
candidates  of  the  questions  involved  in  the  canvass,  and  a  large 
number  of  citizens  gathered  in  the  court-house  to  hear  the 
speeches.  All  the  candidates  had  spoken,  leaving  Lincoln  as  the 
last  on  the  programme.  He  made  a  very  able  speech,  using 
with  great  power  and  originality  all  the  arguments  used  to 
sustain  the  principles  of  the  Whig  party  as  against  its  great 
rival — the  Democratic  party.  The  speech  produced  a  profound 
impression — the  crowd  was  with  him,  and  he  swayed  it  as  he 
pleased.  So  deep  an  impression  did  he  make  that  George  For- 


194  LINCOLN 

quer,  a  man  of  prominence  and  ability,  and  of  much  celebrity 
as  a  sarcastic  speaker,  arose  and  asked  the  people  to  hear  him. 
"Mr.  Forquer  was  not  a  candidate;  he  had  been  a  Whig,  but 
had  recently  joined  the  Democratic  party,  and  almost  simul- 
taneously with  the  change  had  been  appointed  Register  of  the 
Land  Office,  which  office  he  then  held.  At  the  same  time  he 
had  completed  a  neat,  frame  house — the  best  house  then  in 
Springfield — and  over  it  had  erected  a  lightning-rod,  the  only 
one  in  the  place."  1 

Mr.  Forquer  began  his  speech  by  saying  that  this  young 
man  would  have  to  be  taken  down,  and  that  he  was  sorry  that 
the  task  devolved  upon  him.  He  made  what  was  called  one  of 
his  "slasher-gaff"  speeches,  booming  Lincoln's  opponent,  and 
ridiculing  Lincoln  himself,  and,  with  much  pomposity,  derid- 
ing him  as  an  "uncouth  youngster." 

Lincoln  stood  near  with  arms  folded,  never  interrupting  him. 
He  was  laboring  under  a  good  deal  of  suppressed  excitement 
as  was  evidenced  by  his  flashing  eyes  and  pale  cheeks.  When 
Forquer  'had  finished  speaking  he  took  the  stand,  and  replied 
in  a  speech  characterized  by  great  dignity  and  force;  ending 
with: 

"The  gentleman  commenced  his  speech  by  saying  that  this 
young  man  would  have  to  be  'taken  down,  and  he  was  sorry  the 
task  devolved  upon  him.'  I  am  not  so  young  in  years  as 
I  am  in  the  tricks  and  trade  of  a  politician;  but  live  long  or 
die  young,  I  would  rather  die  now  than,  like  the  gentleman, 
change  my  politics  and  simultaneously  with  the  change  receive 
an  office  worth  three  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  then  have 
to  erect  a  lightning-rod  over  my  house  to  protect  a  guilty  con- 
science from  an  offended  God." 

i  Herndon. 


"THE  LONG  NINE"  195 

The  effect  upon  the  audience  was  electrical.  There  came  a 
roar  of  applause;  then,  with  a  mighty  shout,  they  rushed  for- 
ward, seized  Lincoln,  and  bore  him  from  the  platform  upon 
their  shoulders.  It  tickled  their  fancy  to  have  the  tables  turned 
upon  the  pompous,  vain-glorious  man  by  the  youngster  he  was 
deriding,  and  it  was  many  a  long  day  ere  George  Forquer 
heard  the  last  of  his  lightning-rod. 

Men  were  careful  after  that  how  they  attacked  Lincoln. 

The  election  came  off  in  August,  and  this  time  Lincoln  led 
the  ticket.  Hitherto  the  Democrats  had  always  carried  Sanga- 
mon County,  but  this  year  the  Whigs  completely  defeated 
them.  The  delegation  chosen  was  one  famous  in  the  annals  of 
Illinois.  Each  of  the  nine  men  composing  it  was  over  six  feet 
in  height,  and  in  weight  over  two  hundred  pounds.  Sangamon 
County  at  once  gave  them  the  name  of  "The  Long  Nine";  Lin- 
coln being  the  tallest  of  the  lot. 

As  soon  as  the  election  was  over  Lincoln  took  his  examina- 
tion at  Springfield,  and  was  admitted  to  the  Bar,  receiving  his 
license  September  9th,  1836.  His  name  was  enrolled  upon  the 
official  list  of  attorneys  and  counsellors  at  law  March  1st, 
1837.  He  made  his  first  appearance  in  October  of  1836  in  the 
case  of  Hawthorne  against  Woolbridge. 

Lincoln  still  continued  his  surveying,  however.  It  did  not 
seem  wise  to  drop  it  until  he  was  more  fully  established  as  a 
lawyer,  and  for  many  weeks  at  a  time  he  was  absent  from  New 
Salem  laying  out  new  towns  or  locating  new  roads.  But  in  De- 
cember he  dropped  everything  to  go  to  Vandalia  for  the  open- 
ing of  the  Tenth  Assembly. 

It  was  an  historic  session;  chiefly  notable  for  the  adoption 
of  a  great  system  of  public  improvements  that  called  for  the 
expenditure  of  millions  of  dollars;  the  removal  of  the  State 


196  LINCOLN 

capital  from  Vandalia;  and  for  its  connection  with  the  begin- 
ning of  Lincoln's  anti-slavery  history. 

Lincoln  voted  with  his  colleagues  for  a  great  system  of  in- 
ternal improvements,  but  he  took  no  prominent  part  in  the 
work.  He  was  chiefly  concerned  in  the  removal  of  the  capital 
from  Vandalia,  and  was  anxious  to  secure  it  for  Springfield. 
To  him  had  been  entrusted  the  task  to  accomplish  the  measure. 
It  took  patient  and  clever  manipulation  to  put  the  bill  to  secure 
the  capital  for  Springfield  through,  but  at  length  all  obstacles 
were  surmounted  and  only  a  short  time  before  the  close  of  the 
session  it  was  passed  by  a  joint  vote  of  both  houses.  Springfield 
was  to  be  the  capital  of  the  State,  and  to  Lincoln  was  conceded 
the  credit  of  obtaining  it. 

And  then,  as  the  distant  muttering  of  thunder  foretells  the 
coming  storm,  so  a  note  of  warning  sounded  in  the  Tenth  As- 
sembly. 

The  agitation  of  the  question  of  human  slavery  was  just  be- 
ginning to  cause  uneasiness  among  slave-holders  and  politi- 
cians. A  conviction  was  spreading  among  men  and  women  of 
the  North  that  slavery  was  wrong,  and  Anti-slavery  Societies 
were  being  formed  in  several  of  the  States.  The  South  pro- 
tested, and  the  statesmen  of  the  North  joined  them  in  their  pro- 
test. Neither  North  nor  South  doubted  that  the  Constitution 
protected  the  institution  of  slavery,  that  the  South  must  be  sup- 
ported in  its  claims ;  and  that  -agitation  against  the  right  to  hold 
slaves  must  be  stopped. 

But  the  agitation  went  on,  and  wherever  agitators  and  pro- 
slavery  sentiment  met  there  was  violence.  Mass-meetings  of 
citizens  were  held,  the  United  States  Congress,  the  States  Legis- 
latures, took  up  the  question,  and  again  and  again  voted  reso- 
lutions assuring  the   South  that  the  Abolitionists  were  not 


"THE  LONG  NINE"  197 

supported ;  that  the  country  recognized  their  right  to  hold  slaves. 
Being  largely  of  Southern  blood,  and  also  bound  to  the 
States  south  of  the  Ohio  River  by  the  interests  of  trade,  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  Illinois 
was  in  favor  of  slavery,  or  in  favor  of  slave-holders  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  their  legal  and  constitutional  rights.  Both  Whigs  and 
Democrats  alike  hated  and  despised  the  Abolitionists,  though 
there  was  undoubtedly  some  anti-slave  sentiment  among  the 
Whigs;  but  it  was  weak.  The  Illinois  Legislature,  therefore, 
joined  in  the  general  disapproval  of  the  agitation  by  passing 
Resolutions,  declaring, 

"That  we  highly  disapprove  of  the  formation  of  Abolition  Societies 
and  of  the  doctrines  promulgated  by  them. 

"That  the  right  of  property  in  slaves  is  sacred  to  the  slave-holding 
States  by  the  Federal  Constitution,  and  they  cannot  be  deprived  of 
that  right  without  their  consent. 

"That  the  General  Government  cannot  abolish  slavery  in  the  Dis- 
trict of  Columbia  against  the  consent  of  the  citizens  of  that  District, 
without  a  manifest  breach  of  good  faith." 

Lincoln  did  not  vote  for  these  Resolutions.  Instead,  he  drew 
up  a  protest  against  them,  and  solicited  his  colleagues  to  sign 
it  with  him.  They  all  declined,  however,  save  one — Daniel 
Stone,  and  the  protest  was  spread  upon  the  "Journal  of  the 
House."  It  read : 

"Resolutions  upon  the  subject  of  domestic  slavery  having  passed 
both  branches  of  the  General  Assembly  at  its  present  session,  the  un- 
dersigned hereby  protest  against  the  passage  of  the  same. 

"They  believe  that  the  institution  of  slavery  is  founded  on  both  in- 
justice and  bad  policy,  but  that  the  promulgation  of  abolition  doc- 
trines tends  rather  to  increase  than  abate  its  evils. 

"They  believe  that  the  Congress  of  the  United  States  has  no  power 


198  LINCOLN 

under  the  Constitution  to  interfere  with  the  institution  of  slavery  in 
the  different  States. 

"They  believe  that  the  Congress  of  the  United  States  has  the  power 
under  the  Constitution  to  abolish  slavery  in  the  District  of  Columbia, 
but  that  the  power  ought  not  to  be  exercised  unless  at  the  request  of 
the  people  of  the  District. 

"The  difference  between  these  opinions  and  those  contained  in  the 
above  Resolutions  in  their  reason  for  entering  this  protest. 

"Dan.  Stone. 
"A.  Lincoln. 

"Representatives  of  the  County  of  Sangamon." 

Certainly  the  protest  was  a  mild  one,  but  only  two  men  were 
brave  enough  to  sign  it.  It  was  in  truth  a  bold  thing  to  say  that 
the  institution  of  slavery  was  founded  on  injustice  and  bad 
policy,  when  the  temper  of  the  times  is  considerd.  Lincoln, 
however,  believed  that  it  was  his  duty  to  enter  the  protest,  so  he 
did  it.  All  unconsciously  he  had  made  the  first  step  towards 
what  was  to  be  the  supreme  work  of  his  life. 

The  Long  Nine  received  a  royal  welcome  when  they  re- 
turned to  Sangamon  County  at  the  end  of  the  session.  The 
greatness  of  the  feat  of  moving  the  State  capital  to  Springfield 
was  hailed  with  acclaim,  and  the  long-limbed  group  were  com- 
plimented in  the  newspapers,  at  public  meetings,  and  even  at 
subscription  dinners.  At  one  of  these  latter,  sixty  guests  sat 
down,  and  among  the  toasts  given  on  this  occasion  were  two 
in  praise  of  Lincoln: 

"Abraham  Lincoln — he  has  fulfilled  the  expectations  of  his 
friends,  and  disappointed  the  hopes  of  his  enemies." 

"A.  Lincoln:  one  of  Nature's  noblemen." 

After  these  festivities  were  ended  Lincoln  returned  thought- 
fully to  New  Salem. 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 


THE  SANGAMON  CHIEF 


He  returned  to  New  Salem  thoughtfully  for  Lincoln  was 
considering  a  proposition  that  had  been  made  to  him.  Major 
John  T.  Stuart,  his  former  comrade  in  the  Black  Hawk  War, 
who,  by  the  loan  of  sundry  books  had  encouraged  him  in  the 
study  of  law,  had  asked  him  to  come  into  his  office  at  Spring- 
field  as  his  partner.  William  Butler,  Stephen  Logan,  and  other 
friends  all  believed  that  the  time  had  come  when  he  should  seek 
a  larger  field  for  his  activities.  Mr.  Butler  especially  urged 
him  to  take  up  his  residence  at  the  new  seat  of  government,  and 
Lincoln  was  considering  the  matter  seriously.  He  would  not 
be  wholly  unknown.  He  had  made  many  speeches  there,  and 
had  been  instrumental  in  getting  the  capital  for  the  place 
which  would  be  a  favorable  introduction  for  him.  But  the 
thought  of  leaving  New  Salem  was  a  saddening  one. 

The  little  village  was  filled  with  his  friends.  There  was  not 
a  building  or  a  home  that  was  not  intimately  connected  with 
him  in  some  way.  He  had  entered  the  place  a  friendless  lad  and 
the  people  had  taken  him  to  their  hearts.  They  had  watched  his 
progress  with  keenest  interest,  aided  him  when  he  needed  aid, 
and  loved  and  appreciated  him.  The  six  years  he  had  been  there 

199 


200  LINCOLN 

had  wrought  a  great  transformation  in  him.  He  had  come  to 
it  a  strong  young  fellow,  a  pioneer,  proud  of  his  height  and  his 
great  strength,  able  to  meet  all  comers  physically ;  able  also  to 
read  and  to  write ;  Was  master  of  a  few  books,  and  possessed  of 
a  great  desire  for  knowledge.  Now  he  was  a  competent  sur- 
veyor, a  member  of  the  Bar,  a  Representative  in  the  Legisla- 
ture, and  he  had  learned  to  measure  his  intellectual  strength 
against  that  of  other  men.  He  had  been  unlearned  in  many 
things ;  now,  though  he  had  very  little  money,  he  was  reckoned 
a  young  man  of  ability  and  promise.  Still,  he  would  be  leaving 
behind  him  all  the  stepping  stones  by  which  he  had  mounted  to 
the  elevation  he  had  reached. 

New  Salem,  however,  was  "winking  out,"  he  told  himself. 
Many  of  its  people  were  leaving  for  more  accessible  communi- 
ties, taking  with  them  their  belongings  and  their  homes.  Others 
were  talking  of  going.  The  postoffice  had  been  discontinued; 
the  village  was  in  truth  "winking  out."  It  was  time  to  go. 

But  the  new  venture  was  a  doubtful  one.  Going  into  a  law 
office  meant  the  giving  up  of  his  surveying  by  which  he  had 
earned  a  livelihood,  paid  on  his  debts,  and  kept  up  his  credit.  It 
was  a  risk,  but  there  is  no  venture  in  life  that  is  unattended  by 
risk.  Carefully  the  young  man  weighed  the  pros  and  cons  of 
the  matter.  He  decided  to  make  the  move. 

So  it  came  about  that,  after  brief  visits  and  talks  with  friends 
and  neighbors,  on  a  day  in  April,  1837,  Abraham  Lincoln 
packed  all  his  worldly  belongings  into  a  pair  of  saddle-bags 
that  were  none  too  full,  threw  them  over  the  back  of  a  borrowed 
horse,  and  left  the  little  log-cabin  hamlet  on  the  bluff  of  the 
Sangamon,  and  rode  forth  to  take  up  his  residence  in  Spring- 
field. 

But  it  was  with  no  exultation  that  he  entered  his  new  home. 


"THE  SANGAMON  CHIEF"  201 

On  the  contrary  he  was  filled  with  misgivings.  He  had  very 
little  money,  and  there  was  lodging  and  board  to  be  provided 
for  while  waiting  for  clients.  He  was  painfully  aware  of  his 
poverty,  his  lack  of  education,  and  his  utter  ignorance  of  the 
usages  of  society.  Springfield  was  a  small  place,  but  one  with 
many  pretensions  to  elegance.  Lincoln  knew  that  he  was  con- 
fronting a  social  world  more  formidably  correct  than  anything 
he  had  yet  seen. 

So,  a  prey  to  the  deepest  depression,  he  tied  his  horse  to  a 
fence,  and  taking  his  saddle-bags,  entered  the  general  store  of 
Mr.  Joshua  Speed,  a  prosperous  young  merchant  from  Ken- 
tucky, and  set  them  dejectedly  upon  the  counter.  Mr.  Speed 
came  forward  at  once. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Lincoln?"  he  inquired. 

"I  want  to  know  what  the  furnishings  for  a  single  bedstead 
would  cost,  Mr.  Speed,"  Lincoln  answered. 

"Going  to  move  among  us,  Mr.  Lincoln?"  queried  the  young 
merchant  as  he  took  slate  and  pencil  and  began  to  make  the 
estimate. 

"Yes ;  and  I  thought  it  would  be  best  to  hire  a  room,  furnish 
it,  and  browse  around  for  my  sustenance." 

"The  furniture  complete  will  amount  to  seventeen  dollars, 
Mr.  Lincoln,"  Speed  told  him  after  a  brief  calculation. 

"That  is  probably  cheap  enough,"  said  Lincoln  sadly;  "but 
I  want  to  say  that,  cheap  as  it  is,  I  have  not  the  money  to  pay. 
But  if  you  will  credit  me  until  Christmas,  and  my  experiment 
here  as  a  lawyer  is  a  success,  I  will  pay  you  then.  If  I  fail  in 
that  I  will  probably  never  pay  you  at  all." 

Speed  glanced  at  him  quickly.  As  he  said  afterwards  he 
thought  he  had  never  seen  so  gloomy  and  melancholy  a  face 
in  his  life.  He  had  heard  Lincoln  speak,  and  admired  him 


202  LINCOLN 

greatly.  He  was  from  Kentucky,  and  had  heard  all  the  great 
orators  of  that  gifted  State.  He  was  wont  to  say,  however,  that 
he  considered  Abraham  Lincoln  the  equal  of  any  of  them.  So 
now  he  said  quickly : 

"So  small  a  debt  seems  to  affect  you  so  deeply,  I  think  I  can 
suggest  a  plan  by  which  you  will  be  able  to  attain  your  end 
without  incurring  any  debt.  I  have  a  very  large  room  and  a 
very  large  double  bed  in  it,  which  you  are  perfectly  welcome 
to  share  with  me,  if  you  choose." 

"Where  is  your  room?"  asked  Lincoln. 

"Upstairs,"  said  Speed  pointing  to  the  stairs  which  led  from 
the  store  to  the  room  above. 

Without  a  word  Lincoln  took  his  saddle-bags  on  his  arm, 
went  up  the  stairs,  set  them  on  the  floor,  came  down  again  with 
a  face  beaming  with  pleasure  and  smiles,  and  exclaimed : 

"Well,  Speed,  I'm  moved."  So  simply  was  hospitality  given 
and  accepted  in  those  times.  "Heart  room,  house  room"  was 
the  motto  of  the  country. 

So  life  began  in  Springfield.  The  friendship  between  him- 
self and  the  young  merchant  became  so  real,  so  deep  and  abid- 
ing that  it  can  be  compared  only  to  that  of  Damon  and  Pythias. 
Abraham  Lincoln  had  the  power  of  drawing  friends  and  unit- 
ing them  to  himself  with  bands  of  steel.  It  is  doubtful,  however, 
if  he  ever  had  a  more  intimate  friend  than  Joshua  Speed. 

The  little  town  of  Springfield,  with  a  population  of  about 
fifteen  hundred,  lay  between  the  woods  on  the  north,  and  the 
prairie  on  the  south.  A  large  square  was  in  the  centre  of  the 
place  about  which,  grouped  in  a  straggling  line,  were  the  court- 
house, the  churches,  the  banks,  and  other  public  buildings  of  the 
village.  The  houses  were  mostly  of  wood,  set  in  rectangular 
blocks;  and  there  were  no  pavements  or  sidewalks.  The  streets 


"THE  SANGAMON  CHIEF"  203 

were  of  the  black,  prairie  dirt,  the  richest  of  soils,  but  of  un- 
fathomable depth  in  time  of  thaw.  A  small  crude  town,  but  it 
had  high  standards  of  civilization.  Families  of  wealth  and  cul- 
ture were  there;  many  of  them  from  the  South,  but  a  few  of 
high  character  from  the  East  were  among  them.  The  citizens 
were  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  push  and  enterprise ;  so,  though 
it  seemed  to  Lincoln  that  there  was  a  great  deal  of  flourishing 
about  in  carriages,  he  could  not  have  been  placed  in  a  better 
or  more  appreciative  community. 

The  county-court  had  its  offices  on  the  first  floor  of  one  of 
the  largest  buildings  on  the  square,  at  its  northwest  corner. 
The  rooms  on  the  second  floor  were  let  to  lawyers,  and  directly 
over  the  court-room  was  the  law  office  of  the  new  firm  of  Stuart 
and  Lincoln.  It  was  a  small  room,  unpretentious  in  appear- 
ance. Its  furnishings  comprised  a  chair,  over  which  a  buffalo 
robe  was  flung,  in  which  the  junior  partner  was  wont  to  sit  and 
study,  a  hard  wooden  bench,  a  table  which  served  as  a  desk, 
a  rude  bookcase,  and  a  small  bed. 

Lincoln  found  Suart  very  deeply  absorbed  in  politics.  In 
fact,  he  had  just  been  defeated  in  a  race  for  Congress,  and  was 
already  preparing  for  the  next  campaign,  so  that  most  of  the 
responsibility  in  the  management  of  the  business  and  the  con- 
duct of  cases  developed  upon  Lincoln.  He  brought  into  his  prac- 
tice the  same  charity  and  kindness  that  he  had  shown  as  a  la- 
borer, a  storekeeper,  and  a  surveyor.  The  qualities  that  had  won 
him  the  title  of  "Honest  Abe"  still  stuck  to  him.  He  was  an 
honest  lawyer;  he  never  undertook  a  case  of  doubtful  morality. 

Once  when  it  was  shown  that  his  client  had  been  guilty  of 
fraud  he  walked  out  of  the  court-room  and  refused  to  continue 
the  trial.  The  judge  sent  a  messenger,  directing  him  to  return, 
but  he  positively  declined. 


204  LINCOLN 

"Tell  the  judge  that  my  hands  are  dirty,  and  that  I  have 
gone  away  to  wash  them,"  was  the  answer  he  sent  back. 

He  soon  became  as  well  known  on  the  streets  of  Springfield 
as  he  had  been  on  those  of  New  Salem.  Street  discussions  were 
characteristic  of  the  place.  "There  was  scarcely  a  day  or  an 
hour  when  a  knot  of  men  might  not  have  been  seen  near  the 
door  of  some  prominent  store,  or  about  the  steps  of  the  court- 
house, eagerly  discussing  a  current  political  topic.  The  men 
from  the  country,  the  farmers  and  pioneers,  always  gathered 
eagerly  about  these  groups  and  listened  with  open-mouthed 
interest,  frequently  manifesting  their  approval  or  dissent  in 
strong  words,  and  carrying  away  to  their  neighborhoods  a  re- 
port of  the  debater's  wit  and  skill."  It  was  considered  a  great 
treat  when  Lincoln  came  among  them  for  then  they  were  sure 
to  have  some  of  the  stories  for  which  he  already  had  a  reputa- 
tion. So  he  became  established  as  an  excellent  talker,  the  life 
and  soul  of  these  little  gatherings,  a  story-teller  of  the  first 
rank,  and  a  good-natured,  friendly  fellow  whom  everybody 
liked  and  trusted. 

Beside  the  gatherings  about  the  stores  and  county-offices 
there  was  a  society  which  contained  all  the  culture  and  talent 
of  the  town.  It  was  called  "The  Young  Men's  Lyceum,"  and 
its  meetings  were  public.  Lincoln  was  asked  towards  the  end 
of  his  first  year  in  Springfield,  to  speak  before  it,  to  which  he 
consented  with  reluctance.  Not  that  he  minded  making  a 
speech,  but  the  fact  that  the  beauty  and  fashion  of  the  place 
would  be  present  filled  him  with  trepidation.  Lincoln  was  at 
home  with  all  men,  no  matter  what  their  class  or  station  in  life 
might  be ;  but  he  was  aware  that  he  was  deficient  in  those  little 
things  that  please  the  ladies,  and  this  lack  made  him  timid  and 
bashful  with  them. 


"THE  SANGAMON  CHIEF"  205 

"I'm  like  the  Irishman,  Speed,"  he  said  in  response  to  his 
friend  who  was  rallying  him  on  the  subject.  "Pat  was  brave 
enough  when  no  danger  was  near,  but  he  invariably  retreated 
without  orders  at  the  first  charge  of  the  engagement.  On  being 
asked  why  he  did  so,  he  replied,  'Captain,  I  have  as  brave  a  heart 
as  Julius  Ca3sar  ever  had,  but  somehow  or  other  whenever  dan- 
ger approaches,  my  cowardly  legs  will  run  away  with  it.'  And 
so,  no  matter  how  bold  a  front  I  put  up,  whenever  I  meet  with 
society  women  my  heels  itch  to  carry  me  away  from  them." 

"You  must  get  over  that,  Lincoln,"  said  Speed  laughing. 

But,  despite  the  fact  that  he  was  to  deliver  the  speech  be- 
fore an  audience  that  would  include  fashionable  women,  Lin- 
coln prepared  his  address  carefully.  There  were  now  three 
other  young  men  in  the  room  above  the  store  beside  himself 
and  Speed,  and  long  after  the  others  had  gone  to  sleep  he 
would  lie  sprawled  on  the  floor  with  his  pillow  and  candle  work- 
ing on  his  speech.  It  was  finished  at  length,  and  delivered  with 
such  effect  that  "The  Sangamon  Journal"  published  it  in  full, 
and  it  created  for  the  young  orator  a  reputation  which  ex- 
tended beyond  the  limits  of  the  locality  in  which  he  lived. 

He  had  taken  for  his  subject  the  "Perpetuation  of  Our  Free 
Institutions";  the  inspiration  and  burthen  of  which  was  Law 
and  Order.  It  was  the  address  of  a  thinking  man,  an  ardent  and 
devoted  patriot.  It  was  a  speech  appropriate  to  that  time,  and 
to  all  times. 

Lincoln  was  being  recognized  as  a  man  of  mark  and  power, 
and  as  foremost  among  the  Whigs  in  the  Legislature.  And  so, 
upon  his  re-election  to  the  General  Assembly  in  1838,  "the 
Sangamon  Chief,"  as  he  had  been  properly  named,  was  chosen 
by  the  Whigs  as  their  candidate  for  Speaker  of  the  House.  The 
Democratic  nominee,  William  L.  D.  Ewing,  however,  was 


206  LINCOLN 

selected  by  a  majority  of  one  vote.  Lincoln  took  part  in  all 
the  debates  of  this  session  which  was  the  last  one  held  in  Van- 
dalia. 

At  its  close  the  Governor  with  the  archives  and  offices  of 
State  Government  moved  to  Springfield.  The  State-house  was 
not  yet  completed  so  the  churches  were  used  for  the  meetings 
when  a  session  of  the  Legislature  was  held.  The  moving  of  the 
capital  to  Springfield  called  numbers  of  persons  of  influence 
from  almost  every  part  of  the  State  to  the  place,  and  Lincoln, 
as  a  Legislator,  naturally  met  with  all  of  them  thus  adding  to 
his  already  extensive  acquaintance. 

At  this  time  there  lived  in  Springfield  a  remarkable  group 
of  young  men.  They  were  brilliant  and  promising ;  conspicuous 
figures  in  Illinois  politics,  subsequently  becoming  celebrated 
throughout  the  country.  They  were  accustomed  to  gather 
around  the  fireplace  in  the  rear  of  Joshua  Speed's  store  eve- 
nings to  discuss  the  issues  of  the  times.  Among  them  were  Lin- 
coln, Stephen  A.  Douglas,  Calhoun,  Baker,  Lamborne,  Jesse 
B.  Thomas,  and  others.  So  brilliant  and  enthusiastic  were  the 
discussions  of  these  young  statesmen  that  many  of  the  towns- 
people came  in  to  listen  to  them,  and  they  became  the  talk  of 
the  place. 

One  evening  the  conversation  turned  on  political  matters. 
There  were  as  many  Democrats  as  Whigs  among  the  group, 
and  the  discussion  waxed  warm  and  acrimonious.  Stephen  A. 
Douglas  was  leading  on  the  Democratic  side.  He  charged  the 
Whigs  with  every  blunder  and  political  crime  he  could  think 
of;  ending  abruptly  by  exclaiming  vehemently: 

"I  challenge  any  or  all  of  you  who  differ  with  me  to  discuss 
the  matter  publicly.  This  store  is  no  place  to  talk  politics." 

"There  are  some  things,"  observed  Lincoln  dryly,  "that  can 


'THE  SANGAMON  CHIEF"  207 

only  be  cured  by  the  hair  off  the  same  dog.  I  reckon  we'll  have 
to  take  up  that  challenge,  boys." 

So  a  political  tournament  was  entered  into.  It  took  place 
in  the  Presbyterian  Church  after  both  sides  had  assiduously 
prepared  for  the  trial.  Douglas,  Calhoun,  Lamborne,  and 
Thomas  represented  the  Democrats;  and  Logan,  Baker, 
Browning,  and  Lincoln,  in  the  order  named,  presented  the 
Whig  side  of  the  question.  One  evening  was  given  to  each  man, 
and  it  therefore  required  over  a  week  to  complete  the  joust. 
It  began  with  great  enthusiasm  and  crowded  houses,  but  by 
the  time  it  came  to  Lincoln's  turn  to  close  the  debate  the  peo- 
ple had  grown  a  little  tired,  and  the  audience  was  small.  Lin- 
coln's spirits  were  depressed  by  this  fact.  He  declared  that  it 
threw  a  wet  blanket  over  him,  and  he  feared  its  effect  would 
be  such  that  he  could  not  do  justice  to  himself.  But  his  speech 
was  considered  the  best  of  the  series,  and  there  was  such  a  de- 
mand for  it  that  it  was  printed,  and  circulated  in  the  spring  as 
a  campaign  document.  He  was  very  impressive,  devoting  part 
of  his  address  to  a  careful  examination  of  the  statements  of  his 
opponents,  and  refuting  them  by  means  of  public  documents. 
He  closed  with  a  fervid  climax  of  devotion  and  defiance: 

"If  ever  I  feel  the  soul  within  me  elevate  and  expand  to 
those  dimensions  not  wholly  unworthy  of  its  Almighty  Archi- 
tect it  is  when  I  contemplate  the  cause  of  my  country  deserted 
by  all  the  world  besides,  and  I  standing  up  boldly  and 
alone  hurling  defiance  at  her  victorious  oppressors.  Here 
without  contemplating  consequences  before  high  Heaven  and 
in  the  face  of  the  world  I  swear  eternal  fidelity  to  the  just 
cause,  as  I  deem  it,  of  the  land  of  my  life,  my  liberty,  and  my 
love." 

The  Convention  system  was  now  being  used  by  the  Whigs, 


208  LINCOLN 

and  in  1840  they  placed  Lincoln  again  upon  the  Legislative 
ticket.  Though  he  was  being  drawn  more  and  more  towards  the 
law  Lincoln  consented  to  this.  As  the  Legislature  now  met  at 
Springfield  he  would  be  at  home,  and  could  have  a  care  that 
his  professional  interests  were  not  sacrificed.  It  was  a  campaign 
of  noise  and  fun,  filled  with  the  villification  of  politics.  But 
Lincoln  was  better  able  to  endure  such  things  now  than  when 
he  first  offered  himself  to  the  voters  of  New  Salem. 

A  prominent  Democrat,  Jesse  B.  Thomas,  attacked  "the 
Long  Nine"  in  a  speech  at  the  court-house,  reflecting  some- 
what more  on  Lincoln  than  he  did  on  the  rest.  When  he  had 
finished  Lincoln  stepped  upon  the  platform  and  replied  in  a 
speech  that  was  both  witty  and  severe,  and  so  caustic  that  it 
was  long  known  in  political  circles  as  "The  Skinning  of 
Thomas." 

Men  were  beginning  to  know  that  Lincoln  could  defend 
himself,  and  he  became  doubly  respected  as  an  opponent,  for 
his  good-humored  raillery  had  been  already  established  in  his 
campaigns. 

One  evening  Lincoln,  tired  out  with  a  day's  campaigning, 
went  to  the  office  and  laid  down  upon  the  small  bed  to  rest.  A 
young  fellow,  Milton  Hay,  who  had  asked  to  come  into  the 
office  to  study  law  with  him,  was  his  only  companion.  The 
young  man  was  deep  in  study  and  all  was  quiet,  when  all  at 
once  a  great  uproar  sounded  from  the  room  below.  As  has 
been  said,  the  law  office  of  Stuart  and  Lincoln  was  directly  over 
the  Court-room.  Before  the  building  was  used  for  the  courts 
and  offices  it  had  been  a  store-house,  and  a  trap-door  opened 
through  the  floor  into  the  hall  below.  A  political  meeting  had 
been  under  way,  and  E.  D.  Baker,  a  friend  of  Lincoln,  was 
addressing  the  crowd.  Mr.  Baker  was  a  fiery,  impulsive  young 


"THE  SANGAMON  CHIEF"  209 

man,  and  during  his  remarks  he  assailed  the  Democrats  very 
hotly.  This  angered  some  of  the  rough  element  of  the  audience, 
and  instantly  a  tumult  arose.  With  cries  of — "Pull  him  down! 
Throw  him  out!"  there  came  a  rush  towards  the  platform  where 
Baker  stood. 

Just  then  Lincoln  threw  back  the  trap-door,  thrust  a  pair 
of  long  legs  through  the  aperture,  and  then  dropped  lightly  to 
the  platform  below,  and  stood  by  the  side  of  Baker.  Motion- 
ing with  his  hand  for  silence,  he  shouted: 

"Hold  on,  gentlemen,  this  is  a  land  of  free  speech.  Mr. 
Baker  has  a  right  to  be  heard.  I  am  here  to  protect  him  and  no 
man  shall  take  him  from  this  stand,  if  I  can  prevent  it." 

Lincoln's  reputation  for  courage  and  muscle  were  such  that 
the  crowd  knew  that  he  would  do  what  he  said.  Quiet  was  re- 
stored, and  Baker  was  allowed  to  proceed. 

The  local  campaign,  however,  was  overshadowed  by  the 
Presidential  one  of  that  year.  Martin  Van  Buren  was  nomi- 
nated by  the  Democrats,  and  General  William  H.  Harrison 
by  the  Whigs.  Lincoln  was  one  of  the  Presidential  electors  on 
the  Harrison  ticket.  He  threw  himself  heart  and  soul  into  the 
campaign,  making  speeches,  and  going  on  long  expeditions  for 
the  sake  of  his  candidate.  Harrison  lived  in  Ohio,  where  he 
had  been  one  of  the  earlier  pioneers.  "The  dwelling  of  the 
pioneer,  of  course,  was  a  log-cabin ;  his  favorite  drink  was  sup- 
posed to  be  hard  cider."  In  a  very  short  time  the  Harrison  cam- 
paign became  the  "log-cabin  and  hard-cider  campaign."  Even 
in  the  staid  old-fashioned  cities  and  towns  of  the  Eastern 
States,  log-cabins  were  built  as  rallying-places.  Campaign 
songsters,  flags,  and  all  sorts  of  inventions  to  stir  up  the  people 
were  scattered  broadcast  over  the  country. 

The  monster  political  meetings  held  throughout  the  State 


210  LINCOLN 

did  much  to  widen  Lincoln's  reputation,  particularly  one  held 
in  Springfield  in  June.  Twenty  thousand  people  attended  this 
meeting,  delegations  coming  from  all  directions.  "They  came 
in  carriages  and  wagons,  on  horseback  and  on  foot.  They  came 
with  log-cabins  drawn  on  wheels  by  oxen,  and  with  coons,  coon- 
skins,  and  hard  cider.  They  came  with  music  and  banners ;  and 
thousands  of  them  from  long  distances."  *  There  were  a  number 
of  distinguished  speakers  of  the  Whig  party  of  Illinois  present, 
but  Abraham  Lincoln  made  the  principal  address  of  the  day. 

He  was  but  thirty-one  years  of  age,  and  yet  he  was  regarded 
as  one  of  the  ablest  Whig  speakers  in  the  campaign.  Even 
then  he  was  the  subject  of  popular  regard  because  of  his  can- 
did and  simple  mode  of  discussing  and  illustrating  political 
questions. 

The  campaign  ended  in  his  election  to  the  Legislature.  He 
was  again  the  Whig  candidate  for  Speaker  of  the  House,  but, 
as  before,  was  beaten  by  the  Democratic  nominee,  William  L. 
D.  Ewing,  by  a  small  majority.  Abraham  Lincoln  was  grow- 
ing. Wise  men  began  to  have  confidence  in  his  future. 

i  General  T.  J.  Henderson.  Tarbell's  Life  of  Lincoln. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 


A   TEMPESTUOUS    COURTSHIP 


As  has  been  said,  Lincoln  was  not  a  "Ladies'  Man,"  but  as 
his  acquaintance  widened  his  social  horizon  expanded  also.  Be- 
ing a  rising  young  lawyer,  and  a  man  who  had  already  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  no  "inconsiderable  political  recognition," 
with  a  future  full  of  promise  before  him,  he  numbered  many 
men  of  wealth  and  standing  among  his  friends;  therefore  he 
was  welcomed  into  the  best  homes  of  Springfield.  Women 
thought  him  odd  and  homely ;  but  once  they  pierced  through  his 
"peculiar  manner,"  they  found  him  simple,  kindly,  honest,  and 
sincere.  They  noticed  that  while  he  seemed  to  enjoy  the  com- 
pany of  ladies  he  did  not  care  much  for  society.  And,  in  truth, 
while  Lincoln  had  by  this  time  overcome  to  a  great  extent  his 
shyness  in  the  presence  of  society  women,  he  never  felt  thor- 
oughly at  ease  at  the  fashionable  balls,  parties,  and  other  social 
functions  with  which  the  prairie  capital  enlivened  its  evenings. 

There  were  many  attractive  young  ladies  in  Springfield,  but 

in  1839  there  came  one  whose  advent  caused  quite  a  furore 

among  the  young  men  of  the  place.  Miss  Mary  Todd  was  the 

daughter  of  a  banker  of  Lexington,  Kentucky,  and  the  sister 

of  the  wife  of  Ninian  W.  Edwards,  one  of  Springfield's  most 

211 


212  LINCOLN 

prominent  citizens.  This  daughter  of  a  long  line  of  distin- 
guished ancestors  at  once  took  a  leading  position  in  society, 
becoming  one  of  its  belles  by  virtue  of  her  graces  and  attrac- 
tions as  well  as  by  right  of  birth. 

Miss  Todd  was  twenty-one  years  old  when  she  came  to 
Springfield,  and  was  a  brilliant,  vivacious,  highly-educated 
young  girl,  ambitious  and  spirited.  She  had  rich  dark  brown 
hair,  grayish-blue  eyes,  was  of  medium  height,  proud  in  her 
bearing,  with  charming  and  affable  manners.  The  Edwards 
mansion,  which  kept  open  house  with  true  Southern  hospitality, 
became  gayer  than  ever  after  she  became  a  member  of  the  f am- 

ily- 

"Have  you  called  on  the  new  belle,  Lincoln?"  asked  Joshua 
Speed  one  evening  shortly  after  the  young  lady's  arrival. 

"The  new  belle?  Whom  do  you  mean?"  asked  Lincoln  in- 
differently, picking  up  a  book,  and  settling  himself  for  an  eve- 
ning's reading. 

"Why,  Miss  Todd,  of  course.  Haven't  you  heard  of  her? 
The  town  talks  of  no  one  else." 

"I  believe  Stuart  did  speak  of  her."  Lincoln  fingered  his 
book  longingly,  but  Speed  persisted: 

"Aren't  you  interested,  Lincoln?  Why,  she's  as  brilliant  and 
dainty  as  a  butterfly.  She  may  be  your  fate!" 

"Hardly,"  laughed  Lincoln.  "Butterflies  don't  mate  with 
bears." 

"Don't  you  ever  think  of  getting  married,  old  fellow?"  que- 
ried his  friend. 

"I  used  to;  but  I  have  about  come  to  the  conclusion  never 
again  to  think  of  it." 

"But  why?  Sometimes  a  wife  is  a  good  thing  for  a  man. 
Look  at  Mrs.  Edwards!  Ninian  couldn't  get  along  without 


A  TEMPESTUOUS  COURTSHIP  213 

her.  But  coming  back  to  Miss  Mary;  I  am  going  over  to  call 
this  evening.  Come  along!  You  must  pay  your  respects  to  her 
sometime;  why  not  now?" 

"Oh,  well!"  sighed  Lincoln.  "As  well  tonight  as  any  time. 
I'll  have  to  slick  up  a  little  though." 

So  Lincoln  accompanied  his  friend  to  call  on  Miss  Todd.  He 
found  a  stylishly  dressed  young  woman  who  entertained  them 
charmingly.  She  was  brilliant,  vivid,  witty,  and  accomplished; 
possessed  of  all  the  graces  and  amenities  of  the  aristocrat.  She 
had  been  educated  in  the  best  schools  of  Kentucky,  could  read 
and  speak  French  fluently,  was  versed  in  belles-lettres,  and 
was  much  interested  in  politics,  as  were  most  girls  of  the 
period.  Lincoln  had  never  met  any  one  like  her.  She  was  a 
revelation  to  him.  So  deeply  impressed  was  he  by  her  grace  and 
charm  and  fine  manners  and  beauty  that  he  talked  about  her 
with  enthusiasm  after  he  and  Speed  took  their  leave.  Speed 
smiled  wisely  as  he  listened ;  a  smile  that  frequently  came  to  his 
lips  in  the  days  that  followed  as  he  noted  that  this  visit  was 
succeeded  soon  by  another,  and  another;  and  still  others. 

But  Lincoln  did  not  have  the  field  to  himself.  There  were 
many  young,  unmarried  men  in  Springfield,  drawn  there  by 
politics,  and  Miss  Todd  was  the  recipient  of  much  attention 
from  them.  And  among  them  was  Stephen  A.  Douglas.  As  a 
"society  man  Douglas  was  infinitely  more  accomplished,  more 
attractive,  and  more  influential  than  Lincoln,"  and  he  became 
unremitting  in  his  attentions  to  the  lady.  Indeed,  it  seemed 
fated  that  Douglas  and  Lincoln  should  be  pitted  against  each 
other  in  every  walk  of  life,  social  as  well  as  political.  To  the 
amazement  of  all  her  friends,  however,  Mary  Todd  soon 
showed  that  she  preferred  the  sad-eyed,  homely,  and  awkward 
Lincoln  to  Douglas  or  any  of  her  many  suitors.  She  was  pos- 


214  LINCOLN 

sessed  of  an  intuitive  judgment  of  men  and  their  motives,  and 
she  had  glimpsed  Lincoln's  rare  personality. 

She  had  heard  him  speak,  and  had  watched  the  change  his 
appearance  underwent  under  the  stress  of  his  feeling.  She  had 
seen  the  wonderful  fires  of  the  deep-set  gray  eyes  under  the 
broad  idealistic  brow  when  the  sensitive  soul  of  the  man  flashed 
flamelike  with  strong  emotion.  At  such  times  his  form  lost  its 
awkwardness,  and  his  face  took  on  a  noble  and  impressive 
beauty.  She  had  the  insight  to  recognize  his  power  and  the 
strength  of  his  spirit. 

So  Lincoln  found  his  visits  encouraged.  They  went  about 
together  everywhere,  and  he  found  himself  more  and  more  at- 
tracted by  her  sagacity  and  wit.  At  this  juncture,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Edwards  protested. 

"He  is  a  good,  honest,  sincere  young  man,"  they  told  Miss 
Todd.  "We  admire  him  greatly,  but  he  is  not  suited  for  you, 
Mary.  And,  furthermore,  he  comes  of  a  poor  and  humble  fam- 
ily, and  you  are  an  aristocrat.  There  are  other  young  men  who 
would  be  far  more  congenial  and  suitable  than  he." 

"Pooh!"  spoke  Miss  Todd  contemptuously.  "He's  worth 
more  than  all  the  others  put  together.  Where  are  your  eyes?" 

"But,  Mary,"  cried  Mrs.  Edwards,  "what  about  your  ambi- 
tions ?  You  have  always  declared  that  you  were  going  to  marry 
a  President." 

"And  so  I  shall  if  I  marry  Abraham  Lincoln,"  declared  Miss 
Todd.  "There  is  more  probability  of  Abraham  Lincoln  being 
a  President  than  of  any  one  else  in  Springfield." 

"Why,  Mary,"  ejaculated  her  sister.  "He  may  come  to  the 
Governorship  of  the  State;  Ninian  thinks  it  very  likely.  He 
may  even  be  a  Congressman,  but  President — No.  And,  too, 
Mr.  Lincoln  uses  queer  pronunciations  for  some  words.  Why, 


A  TEMPESTUOUS  COURTSHIP  215 

he  says  'cheer'  for  chair;  'legislatur'  for  legislature;  and  uses 
other  old-fashioned  pronunciations." 

This  was  a  fact,  and  to  the  end  of  his  life  Lincoln  adhered 
to  such  usages.  But  Miss  Todd  only  laughed.  She  loved  Lin- 
coln, and  being  a  young  lady  of  determination  she  continued 
to  encourage  her  ungainly  suitor. 

Matters  were  at  this  stage  during  the  campaign  of  1840  into 
which  Lincoln  threw  himself  with  enthusiasm.  It  had  been  long 
since  he  had  been  so  happy.  Financially  things  were  easier  for 
him  than  they  had  ever  been.  He  had  an  extensive  practice; 
though  the  cases  were  not  such  as  would  warrant  large  fees 
they  yet  brought  in  enough  for  a  livelihood.  He  was  slowly  but 
surely  getting  out  of  debt,  and  by  the  August  election  was 
again  made  a  member  of  the  Legislature.  Above  all  else,  there 
was  a  brilliant  and  fascinating  woman,  who,  he  was  beginning 
to  believe,  would  be  willing  to  link  her  life  with  his.  So,  when 
the  National  Election  ended  in  November  with  the  election  of 
William  Henry  Harrison  as  President,  he  came  back  from  a 
campaign  expedition  for  his  candidate  with  the  determination 
to  put  his  fate  to  the  test  by  asking  Miss  Todd  to  be  his  wife. 

There  was  to  be  a  monster  celebration  by  the  Whigs  in  honor 
of  their  victory,  and  he  was  to  escort  Miss  Todd.  Accordingly, 
he  hastened  to  the  Edwards  mansion,  just  across  from  the  new 
State  House,  where  he  found  her  waiting  for  him  in  the  par- 
lor. 

"To  the  victor  belongs  the  spoils,"  she  cried  gaily  as  he 
entered.  She  had  not  seen  him  since  the  result  of  the  election 
had  become  known.  "What  shall  you  ask  as  a  reward  for  your 
work,  Mr.  Lincoln?  Do  you  wish  to  be  a  Cabinet  member,  or 
an  Ambassador?  Mr.  Harrison  should  give  you  whatever  you 
want.  I'm  sure  you  have  earned  it." 


216  LINCOLN 

"Mr.  Harrison  can  not  give  me  what  I  want  more  than  any- 
thing else,"  said  Lincoln  with  a  look  that  made  Miss  Todd 
tremble.  "Mary,  could  you  by  any  possible  chance  care  for  an 
uncouth,  awkward  fellow  as  I  am?  Could  you?" 

Mary  Todd  grew  pale.  She  loved  Abraham  Lincoln.  "I  not 
only  could,  but  I  do,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone. 

And  so  they  became  engaged. 

Up  to  this  time  the  courtship  had  progressed  smoothly,  but 
before  long  there  came  clashes  that  were  inevitable  between 
people  whose  upbringing  had  differed  so  materially.  Miss  Todd 
was  young,  and  she  loved  parties,  dances,  all  kinds  of  social 
gayeties.  Lincoln  was  thirty-one,  and  neither  his  breeding  nor 
inclination  fitted  him  for  such  things.  He  frequently  failed  to 
accompany  her  to  the  merry-makings,  and  she  resented  it.  She 
had  been  courted  and  flattered  all  her  life;  was  accustomed  to 
assiduous  attentions  from  her  suitors,  and  it  seemed  to  her  like 
neglect  or  indifference  when  Lincoln  did  not  play  the  gallant 
to  her  notion.  She  was  exacting,  expecting  him  always  to  be 
at  her  side.  When  he  missed  being  with  her  she  accepted  at- 
tention from  others.  The  handsome  and  dashing  Stephen  A. 
Douglas  was  always  ready  to  play  the  escort,  and  he  became 
very  devoted,  much  to  the  amazement  of  the  straightforward 
Lincoln  to  whom  an  engagement  was  almost  as  sacred  as  a 
marriage.  There  were  tears,  reproaches,  misunderstandings. 
They  fell  out,  made  up,  and  fell  out  again.  Other  fundamental 
differences  in  opinions  began  to  manifest  themselves,  until  Lin- 
coln, puzzled,  bewildered,  pained,  began  to  wonder  if — after  all 
— they  were  compatible. 

Perhaps  if  he  had  known  more  of  women  he  might  have  mas- 
tered the  situation,  but  he  had  known  only  a  few  women  inti- 
mately; his  mother,  step-mother,  his  sister,  and  the  women  of 


A  TEMPESTUOUS  COURTSHIP  217 

New  Salem.  These  were  all  simple,  pioneer  women  with  no 
subtlety  in  their  make-up.  He  wondered  if  it  lay  in  his  power 
to  make  this  brilliant  lady  happy.  He  wondered  if  he  really 
loved  her. 

He  missed  the  over-mastering  rapture  of  the  love  he  had  felt 
for  Anne  Rutledge,  not  knowing  that  the  ecstasy  of  first  love 
is  never  felt  but  once.  Had  he  been  more  of  an  adept  in  the 
tender  passion  he  would  have  known  that  while  such  transports 
may  be  lacking  there  may  come  a  second  love  that  is  tender, 
true,  and  abiding.  Not  knowing  this  doubts  of  his  own  feelings 
took  possession  of  him.  If  he  did  not  love  her  it  would  be  com- 
mitting a  great  wrong  to  marry  her.  He  became  profoundly 
miserable. 

Meantime,  Miss  Todd  was  beginning  to  entertain  the  same 
ideas  towards  him.  Perhaps  her  friends  were  right  after  all,  and 
she  and  Mr.  Lincoln  would  not  be  congenial  together.  So,  when 
Lincoln,  after  much  unhappiness,  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  did  not  love  her,  and  with  invincible  truthfulness  told 
her  so,  she  naturally  released  him  from  the  engagement. 

The  engagement  was  broken  on  the  first  of  January,  1841 ; 
a  day  that  Lincoln  ever  after  referred  to  as  the  "fatal  first  of 
January."  But  no  sooner  was  it  terminated  than  he  became  a 
prey  to  the  most  intense  feeling  of  sadness.  He  felt  the  sharp- 
est anguish  at  what  he  regarded  as  his  breach  of  honor.  He  felt 
that  he  could  no  longer  trust  himself  in  matters  of  importance 
since  he  could  not  keep  his  word.  He  had  a  tender  reverence 
for  women,  and  the  knowledge  that  he  had  hurt  one  of  them 
seemed  too  heinous  a  crime  to  expiate.  His  melancholy  despair, 
his  sense  of  dishonor  were  evident  to  every  one. 

As  the  engagement  had  been  known  to  all  their  friends  its 
breaking  was  the  subject  of  a  great  deal  of  gossip.  The  talk 


218  LINCOLN 

was  gall  and  wormwood  to  Miss  Todd's  proud  spirit,  but,  like 
the  Kentucky  thoroughbred  that  she  was,  she  flung  up  her 
little  head,  and  went  on  her  merry  way  without  a  word.  But  she 
dismissed  Stephen  A.  Douglas  as  a  suitor. 

Lincoln  went  about  his  duties  his  whole  being  shrouded  in 
gloom.  His  partner,  Mr.  Stuart,  was  at  this  time  in  Congress 
at  Washington,  and  writing  to  him,  he  said : 

"I  am  now  the  most  miserable  man  living.  If  what  I  feel 
were  equally  distributed  to  the  whole  human  family  there  would 
not  be  one  cheerful  face  on  earth.  Whether  I  shall  ever  be  bet- 
ter I  cannot  tell.  I  awfully  forebode  I  shall  not.  To  remain  as 
I  am  now  is  impossible.  I  must  die  or  be  better  as  it  appears 
to  me.  The  matter  you  speak  of  on  my  account  you  may  at- 
tend to  as  you  say,  unless  you  shall  hear  of  my  condition  for- 
bidding it.  I  say  this  because  I  fear  I  shall  be  unable  to  attend 
to  any  business  here,  and  a  change  of  scene  might  help  me." 

He  was  ill  for  a  few  days  after  this,  but  soon  recovered,  and 
resumed  his  place  in  the  House  and  the  leadership  of  his  party. 
From  this  time  on  he  was  constant  in  his  attendance  and  active 
in  the  routine  of  the  Legislature  until  it  adjourned. 

In  April  Stuart  and  Lincoln  dissolved  partnership,  as  Stuart 
found  his  time  too  much  taken  up  with  politics  to  give  the  law 
the  attention  that  the  profession  required.  It  may  be  said  in 
passing  that  later  he  returned  to  it,  becoming  one  of  the  most 
noteworthy  lawyers  of  the  State.  Lincoln,  therefore,  was  left 
free  to  accept  an  offer  from  Judge  Stephen  T.  Logan  to  enter 
his  office  as  partner.  But  his  melancholy  continued  to  such  an 
extent  that  his  bosom  friend,  Joshua  Speed,  became  alarmed. 

"See  here,  old  fellow,"  he  said  to  Lincoln  one  day,  "you  need 
a  change.  I've  sold  the  store,  and  as  I  told  you,  I'm  going  back 
home  for  a  visit.  Why  not  come  with  me?" 


A  TEMPESTUOUS  COURTSHIP  219 

Lincoln's  face  lighted  up ;  then  he  shook  his  head. 

"I  should  be  poor  company,  Speed,"  he  said.  "Your  folks 
would  get  the  hypo  just  from  looking  at  me." 

"No,  they  wouldn't.  Do  come.  It  will  do  you  good  just  to 
meet  with  my  mother." 

So  Lincoln  accompanied  his  friend  to  Farmington,  a  place 
about  three  miles  from  Louisville,  Kentucky,  where  Speed's 
people  lived.  It  was  a  fine  farm,  in  the  Blue  Grass  Country, 
and  here  among  congenial  surroundings  Lincoln  found  the  rest 
his  sorely  perturbed  spirit  needed. 

It  was  a  happy  and  pious  family  into  which  his  friend 
brought  him.  First,  there  was  his  friend  himself  to  whom  he 
stood  closer  than  to  any  other  man.  The  ties  between  these  two 
were  never  broken  and  to  the  end  of  his  life  Lincoln  could  turn 
to  him,  certain  to  get  the  truth  of  any  matter,  equally  sure  of 
sound  counsel  and  unselfish  fidelity.  There  was  a  brother, 
James  Speed,  who  practiced  law  in  Louisville,  with  whom  Lin- 
coln read  much  during  his  stay,  and  to  whom  he  talked  of  his 
reading,  his  studies,  and  his  aspirations.  There  was  a  young 
sister  whose  gayety  did  much  to  lighten  his  gloom.  Above  all, 
there  was  Speed's  mother,  a  God-fearing  woman  who  took  him 
at  once  under  her  own  especial  care,  and  by  her  motherly  min- 
istrations and  delicate  attentions  exerted  a  marked  influence 
for  good  uj)on  him.  She  gave  him  an  Oxford  Bible  which  Lin- 
coln accepted  gratefully,  and  always  cherished.  The  visit 
brought  solace  and  healing  to  him,  and  he  gained  in  strength 
daily,  physically  as  well  as  mentally.  By  fall  he  was  entirely 
himself  again,  and  he  and  Speed  went  back  to  Springfield. 

With  new  vigor  he  applied  himself  to  the  law.  His  associa- 
tion with  Judge  Logan,  who  was  considered  one  of  the  most 
eminent  practitioners  in  the  State,  was  of  great  advantage  to 


220  LINCOLN 

him.  His  ambition  as  a  lawyer  increased,  and  he  grew  con- 
stantly. Eventually  he  came  to  be  quite  a  formidable  lawyer. 

There  were  a  number  of  other  activities  that  engaged  his 
attention  also.  Lincoln  was  determined  that  there  should  be  no 
return  of  the  "hypo,"  as  he  called  it,  and  to  keep  his  mind  oc- 
cupied he  filled  his  time  with  many  enterprises.  He  served  this 
year  as  a  member  of  the  Whig  Central  Committee,  and  bore  a 
prominent  part  in  the  movement  set  on  foot  to  check  intemper- 
ance in  the  use  of  spirits. 

He  did  not  run  again  for  the  Legislature  this  year.  He  de- 
clined the  nomination,  hoping  that  later  he  might  make  the 
race  for  Congress. 

Meantime  Speed  returned  to  Kentucky,  and  married.  While 
Lincoln  regretted  that  his  friend  had  decided  to  remain  in 
Kentucky,  he  rejoiced  over  his  happiness,  and  his  letters  showed 
plainly  that  he  was  "still  unreconciled  to  his  separation  from 
Miss  Todd."  Just  at  this  juncture  he  received  an  invitation 
from  Mrs.  Simeon  Francis,  wife  of  the  editor  of  "The  Sanga- 
mon Journal,"  to  a  gathering  at  her  house. 

Francis  was  a  great  admirer  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  his 
wife  shared  his  admiration.  She  was  also  a  friend  of  Mary 
Todd,  and  thought  it  was  a  pity  that  the  two  should  be  es- 
tranged. In  her  judgment  a  marriage  between  a  man  "as 
promising  in  the  political  world  as  Lincoln,  and  a  woman  as 
accomplished  and  brilliant  in  society  as  Mary  Todd,  would 
certainly  add  to  the  attractions  of  Springfield,  and  reflect  great 
credit  on  those  who  brought  it  about."  Therefore,  she  had 
arranged  this  gathering  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation. 

During  the  afternoon  she  came  to  Lincoln,  saying, 

"Mr.  Lincoln,  I  want  to  present  you  to  a  dear  friend  of 


He  Found  Himself  More  and  More  Attracted  by  Mary  Todd 
and  She  Encouraged  His  Visits 


A  TEMPESTUOUS  COURTSHIP  221 

mine,  and  I  want  you  to  promise  that  you  will  be  extra  nice 
to  her." 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  you  mean  by  being  'extra  nice/ 
Mrs.  Francis,"  answered  Lincoln  laughing;  "but  I'll  do  my 
best." 

What  was  his  amazement  when  the  lady  brought  him  to 
Miss  Todd,  and  presented  him,  saying  as  she  left  them  to- 
gether : 

"Now  do  be  friends  again." 

The  surprise  was  mutual,  for  neither  suspected  the  oth- 
er's presence.  For  a  moment  they  stood  in  silence,  looking  at 
each  other.  Miss  Todd  flushed  and  paled,  and  her  lips  quiv- 
ered. Impulsively  Lincoln  held  out  his  hand. 

"We  can  at  least  be  friends,  can't  we,  Mary?"  he  asked 
simply.  And  she  nodded  acquiescence  as  she  laid  her  hand  in 
his. 

So  the  two  were  friends  again,  but  the  new  courtship  was 
begun  with  shyness  on  both  sides.  They  shrank  from  the  com- 
ments that  might  be  made  should  it  be  known  that  they  had 
made  up,  so,  during  the  remainder  of  the  summer  they  met 
quietly  in  Mrs.  Francis's  parlor.  And  then  there  came  an  oc- 
currence that  brought  the  affair  to  a  climax. 

Among  the  young  men  in  Springfield  at  this  time  was  one 
James  Shields,  from  Tyrone  County,  Ireland,  who  had  re- 
cently been  elected  Auditor  of  the  State.  He  was  a  brave, 
hotheaded  man,  very  vain,  and  so  extremely  sensitive  that  he 
was  a  fair  mark  for  ridicule.  In  August  there  was  issued  a 
circular  by  the  Governor,  Auditor,  and  Treasurer  of  the  State 
forbidding  the  payment  of  taxes  in  State  bank  notes.  The  notes 
were  nearly  worthless,  but  were  practically  the  only  circulating 


222  LINCOLN 

medium  in  the  State.  The  order,  consequently,  met  with  oppo- 
sition from  every  quarter — the  Whigs  of  course  losing  no 
opportunity  of  making  it  as  odious  as  possible.  After  the  fash- 
ion of  the  times  Lincoln  wrote  a  letter  to  "The  Sangamon  Jour- 
nal," purporting  to  come  from  the  "Lost  Townships"  in  which 
he  described  the  plight  to  which  the  new  order  had  brought  this 
neighborhood,  and  intimated  that  the  only  reason  for  issuing 
the  order  was  that  the  State  Officers  might  have  their  salaries 
paid  in  silver.  Shields,  the  Auditor,  was  ridiculed  unmercifully 
in  the  letter  for  his  vanity  and  gallantry.  As  he  pretended  to 
be  a  widow  Lincoln  signed  the  letter  "Aunt  Rebecca." 

Shields  was  furious,  and  ranted  about  the  streets,  threaten- 
ing death  and  destruction  to  the  unknown  author  of  the  satire. 
Springfield  was  in  throes  of  merriment  over  the  affair  which 
was  the  talk  of  the  town.  Now  Lincoln  had  confided  to  Miss 
Todd  that  he  had  written  the  letter.  It  was  so  successful  that 
she  and  a  friend  of  hers,  Miss  Julia  Jayne,  took  it  upon  them- 
selves to  write  another  the  following  week,  in  which  the  widow, 
"Aunt  Rebecca,"  offered  to  square  matters  with  the  gallant 
Auditor  by  marrying  him.  A  few  days  later  the  young  ladies 
published  some  verses,  signed  "Cathleen,"  celebrating  the  wed- 
ding. The  humor  of  the  thing  vanished  with  the  change  of  au- 
thorship, but  if  the  second  letter  and  the  verses  lacked  wit  and 
metre  they  were  not  wanting  in  pungency.  "It  was  a  case  of 
feminine  mischief  on  one  side  and  exasperation  on  the  other."  1 
Shields  ought  to  have  laughed  the  matter  off ;  instead,  he  went 
in  a  rage  to  the  editor,  Mr.  Simeon  Francis,  demanding  to 
know  the  name  of  the  author  of  the  attacks.  In  his  dilemma  the 
editor  appealed  to  Lincoln,  saying  that  Shields  would  fight, 
and  that  he,  the  editor,  did  not  want  to  fight.  Naturally  Lin- 

i  Nicolay  &  Hay. 


A  TEMPESTUOUS  COURTSHIP  223 

coin  did  not  want  either  the  name  of  Miss  Todd  or  Miss  Jayne 
to  appear  in  the  matter,  so  he  told  Mr.  Francis  to  say  that 
he — Abraham  Lincoln — was  responsible  for  the  whole  af- 
fair. 

Lincoln  was  just  leaving  Springfield  for  a  long  trip  on  the 
circuit  when  Mr.  Francis  came  to  him,  and  unconcernedly  he 
proceeded  on  his  way.  At  the  time  duelling  was  common.  Cus- 
tom had  established  it  as  the  mode  of  setting  a  man  right  "when 
his  honor  had  been  assailed  before  the  community."  Therefore, 
Lincoln  was  not  surprised  when,  a  few  days  later,  two  of  his 
friends,  William  Butler  and  Dr.  E.  B.  Merryman,  drove  has- 
tily into  Tremont  where  he  was  at  Court,  and  told  him  that 
Shields  with  a  friend  was  coming  to  challenge  him.  They  had 
come  to  be  of  whatever  assistance  they  could  in  the  matter. 
What  was  he  going  to  do  about  it  ? 

"I  am  opposed  to  duelling,"  replied  Lincoln  slowly,  "as  you 
both  know.  I  will  do  anything  to  avoid  taking  part  in  such  a 
thing  except  that  which  will  degrade  me  in  the  estimation  of- 
my  friends.  But,  if  such  degradation  or  a  fight  are  the  only 
alternatives,  I  will  fight." 

"We  are  here  to  stand  by  you,  Lincoln,"  said  Dr.  Merry- 
man.  "We  shall  see  to  it  that  no  advantage  is  taken  of  either 
your  honor  or  your  life." 

It  was  not  long  before  Shields  and  his  friend,  General  White- 
sides,  drove  up.  Shields  opened  negotiations  with  such  an  of- 
fensive note  that  Lincoln  was  barred  from  making  the  explana- 
tion he  had  stood  ready  to  give.  After  much  talk  the  affair 
ended  by  Lincoln  accepting  the  challenge  which  Shields  sent 
him. 

Being  the  challenged  party  the  terms,  by  the  code,  were  left 
to  Lincoln,  and  he  "certainly  made  no  grudging  use  of  the 


224  LINCOLN 

privilege."  *  The  weapons  were  to  be  cavalry  broadswords  of 
the  largest  size,  and  the  combatants  were  to  stand  on  either 
side  of  a  board  placed  on  the  ground,  each  to  fight  in  a  limit  of 
six  feet  on  his  own  side  of  the  board.  The  place  of  meeting  was 
to  be  on  Bloody  Island,  neutral  territory  lying  on  the  Missis- 
sippi River,  between  Illinois  and  Missouri. 

After  all  these  matters  were  arranged  the  duelling  party 
started  for  Alton  where  they  were  to  take  the  ferry  for  the 
place  of  meeting.  Lincoln  and  his  second,  Dr.  Merryman, 
drove  together  in  a  buggy,  in  the  bottom  of  which  rattled  the 
weapons  to  be  used.  On  their  way  to  Alton  the  two  stopped  at 
Whitehall  for  dinner  where  an  acquaintance  of  Merryman's 
lived.  He  was  not  long  in  finding  out  what  was  on  foot,  and  as 
soon  as  the  duellists  had  started  on,  he  drove  to  Carrollton, 
where  he  knew  that  Colonel  John  J.  Hardin  and  several  other 
friends  of  Lincoln  were  attending  Court,  and  told  them  of  the 
trouble.  Hardin  and  one  or  two  others  set  off  immediately  for 
Alton. 

In  the  meantime,  the  entire  duelling  party  had  arrived  at 
Alton,  had  taken  the  ferry,  and  were  now  at  the  place  of  meet- 
ing. The  principals  had  taken  their  places,  and  were  ready  to 
engage  when  they  were  interrupted  by  a  shout,  and  Colonel 
Hardin  and  Dr.  English  leaped  from  a  canoe  in  which  they 
had  paddled  across  the  Mississippi,  and  implored  the  combat- 
ants to  listen  to  them.  The  upshot  of  the  matter  was  that 
Shields  was  persuaded  to  withdraw  his  offensive  challenge,  and 
then  Lincoln  gave  the  explanation  he  had  been  ready  to  make 
from  the  beginning.  He  acknowledged  that  he  had  written  the 
one  letter,  saying  that  it  had  been  done  solely  for  political  ef- 
fect, and  without  any  intention  of  injuring  Mr.  Shields  per- 

i  Nicolay  &  Hay. 


A  TEMPESTUOUS  COURTSHIP  225 

sonally.  So  matters  were  adjusted  "with  honor"  to  all  con- 
cerned. 

Miss  Todd  was  so  filled  with  contrition  for  her  part  in 
bringing  Lincoln  into  such  a  plight  that  she  tried  to  make 
amends  in  every  way  she  could ;  but  Lincoln,  now  that  the  mat- 
ter had  ended  comically,  treated  the  whole  matter  mirthfully. 
Much  to  his  surprise  he  had  found  himself  entirely  willing  to 
fight  for  the  young  lady.  Indeed,  he  knew  at  last  that  nothing 
would  delight  him  more  than  to  fight  her  battles  always.  He 
told  her  so.  They  decided  to  be  married  and  that  very  soon. 

A  few  weeks  later,  on  the  morning  of  November  Fourth, 
Lincoln  went  to  the  room  of  his  friend,  James  H.  Matheney, 
before  he  was  out  of  bed,  and  told  him  he  was  to  be  married 
that  evening,  and  that  he  wished  him  to  attend. 

Later  in  the  day,  as  he  was  attending  to  the  license  and  the 
wedding  ring,  in  which  he  had  the  jeweller  to  engrave,  "Love 
is  eternal,"  he  encountered  Ninian  W.  Edwards,  Miss  Todd's 
brother-in-law.  He  told  him  that  he  and  Mary  were  to  be  mar- 
ried that  evening  in  the  Episcopalian  Church. 

"If  you  and  Mary  wish  to  be  married  this  evening,  that  is 
all  right,  Lincoln,"  said  Mr.  Edwards,  gravely.  "But  Mary  is 
my  ward,  and  the  wedding  must  be  at  my  house." 

And  so,  on  Friday  evening,  November  Fourth,  1842,  in  the 
midst  of  a  small  circle  of  friends,  with  the  elements  doing  their 
utmost  in  the  way  of  rain,  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Mary  Todd 
were  married  by  the  Reverend  Charles  Dresser,  Rector  of  the 
Episcopalian  Church,  at  the  home  of  Ninian  W.  Edwards. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

THE  RISING  POLITICIAN 

Lincoln  took  his  wife  to  live  at  the  Globe  Tavern,  a  very 
well  kept  inn  run  by  Widow  Beck.  Room  and  board  for  the 
two  of  them  cost  him  four  dollars  a  week,  a  style  of  living 
suited  to  his  means. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  proved  to  be  a  devoted  wife.  She  was  very 
proud  of  her  tall,  ungainly  husband,  and  had  great  faith  in 
his  future.  She  watched  his  every  move  with  keenest  interest, 
and  as  he  struggled  for  advancement  in  his  profession  and  poli- 
tics she  shared  in  his  sacrifices  without  a  murmur.  If  at  times, 
the  high-strung  lady  lost  patience  when  he  sprawled  on  the 
floor  with  a  pillow  under  his  head  and  a  book  in  his  hand,  or 
went  to  the  door  to  admit  lady  callers  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  it 
was  because  she  wanted  others  to  see  him  as  she  knew  him — 
the  embodiment  of  noble  manhood,  and  she  knew  the  value  of 
external  appearance  to  produce  such  an  impression.  Nothing 
irked  her  more  than  to  have  him  called  homely. 

"If  people  were  only  aware  of  it,"  she  would  say,  "Mr.  Lin- 
coln's heart  is  as  big  as  his  arms  are  long." 

She  took  him  sharply  to  task  about  his  clothing  to  which 
Lincoln  submitted  good-naturedly.  He  knew  that  he  was  lack- 

226 


THE  RISING  POLITICIAN  227 

ing  in  this  respect,  and  was  perfectly  willing  to  be  "reformed" 
in  this  particular.  But,  despite  all  his  wife's  efforts,  though 
she  wrought  a  change  for  the  better  in  his  personal  appearance, 
the  fact  remained  that  Abraham  Lincoln  always  appeared  a 
carelessly  dressed  man.  But  he  was  scrupulously  clean,  and  his 
linen  was  immaculate.  All  in  all,  they  got  along  together  very 
well,  and  Lincoln  developed  in  mind  and  character. 

He  found  to  his  surprise  and  pleasure  that  there  was  a  new 
stimulus  to  his  love  for  politics;  for  his  wife  encouraged  his 
ambition  in  every  way  that  she  could.  He  wanted  to  go  to 
Congress,  and  frankly  announced  his  desire.  Lincoln  believed 
that  if  a  man  wished  an  office,  and  was  fitted  for  it,  there  was 
no  reason  why  he  should  not  try  to  get  it.  And  he  never  felt 
rancor  if  any  of  his  friends  desired  the  same  position  that  he 
did.  Therefore,  in  the  spring  of  1843,  he  prepared  to  bring 
himself  before  the  people  as  a  candidate  for  Congress.  He 
wrote  to  a  friend  at  this  time: 

"If  you  should  hear  any  one  say  that  Lincoln  don't l  want  to 
go  to  Congress,  I  wish  you,  as  a  personal  friend  of  mine,  would 
tell  him  you  have  reason  to  believe  that  he  is  mistaken.  The 
truth  is  I  would  like  to  go  very  much.  Still,  circumstances  may 
happen  which  may  prevent  my  being  a  candidate." 

Circumstances  did  prevent.  A  mass  meeting  of  the  Whigs  of 
the  district  was  held  in  Springfield  on  the  1st  of  March,  1843, 
for  the  purpose  of  organizing  the  party  for  the  elections  of  the 
year.  There  were  still  some  Whigs  who  were  opposed  to  the 
convention  system,  and  a  committee,  of  which  Lincoln  was  a 
member,  was  appointed  to  prepare  an  "Address  to  the  People 

i  I  used  "don't"  instead  of  "doesn't"  because  Lincoln  did.  While  exact  in  his 
language  in  speeches  Lincoln  was  not  so  particular  in  his  everyday  idiom,  and  in 
his  friendly  letters.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  stuck  closely  to  Lincoln's  own  words 
and  phrases  throughout  the  book,  wherever  it  was  possible  to  do  so. 


228  LINCOLN 

of  Illinois,"  defending  the  Convention  System.  This  was  so 
convincing  in  its  arguments  showing  that  in  unity  only  there 
was  strength,  that  the  Whigs  forthwith  adopted  the  system 
without  dissension.  In  accordance  with  the  new  policy  the 
Whigs  of  the  various  counties  in  the  Congressional  District 
met  and  chose  delegates.  To  Lincoln's  keen  disappointment  the 
Sangamon  County  meeting  named  Edward  D.  Baker  as  its 
choice  for  Congressman.  He  was  very  popular,  and  had  been 
a  lifelong  resident  of  the  county,  so  his  claims  antedated  those 
of  Lincoln.  Moreover,  Lincoln  was  appointed  a  delegate  to 
the  District  Convention  which  meant  that  he  must  work  to  get 
Baker  the  nomination.  Great  as  was  his  disappointment  the 
matter  struck  Lincoln  humorously. 

"In  getting  the  nomination  for  Baker,"  he  wrote  to  Speed, 
"I  shall  be  fixed  like  a  fellow  who  is  made  groomsman  to  a 
man  who  has  cut  him  out,  and  is  marrying  his  own  dear  gal." 

But  he  stood  by  Baker  nevertheless,  and  worked  as  hard  for 
him  to  get  the  nomination  as  he  would  have  done  for  himself. 
There  were  certain  of  his  constituents,  however,  who  were  not 
so  complacent,  and  who  urged  him  to  try  for  the  nomination 
in  spite  of  his  instructions  as  a  delegate.  This  was  particularly 
the  case  with  his  old  friends  of  New  Salem  and  vicinity,  but 
Lincoln,  while  pleased  with  this  demonstration  of  their  friend- 
ship for  him,  declined  to  consider  any  move  that  would  work 
against  Baker.  "I  feel  myself  bound  not  to  hinder  him  in  any 
way  from  getting  the  nomination;  I  should  despise  myself 
were  I  to  attempt  it,"  he  told  them. 

It  was  soon  evident,  however,  to  both  Baker  and  Lincoln 
that  John  J.  Hardin  of  Jacksonville  was  probably  the  strong- 
est candidate  in  the  District.  Therefore,  when  the  Convention 


THE  RISING  POLITICIAN  229 

met  at  Pekin,  in  May,  1843,  Baker  declined  the  candidacy, 
and  Hardin  was  elected  by  acclamation. 

As  Lincoln  had  supported  Baker  so  now  he  supported 
Hardin.  He  was  a  loyal  .party  man,  believing  in  the  necessity 
of  unity  and  concord  that  his  party  might  make  its  entire 
strength  felt.  When  at  last  the  election  was  over,  and  Hardin 
elected,  Lincoln  busied  himself  with  the  law  and  local  politics. 
He  had  an  added  incentive  to  work  now,  for  a  baby  boy  had 
come  to  the  Lincoln  household.  A  boy  whom  they  named  Rob- 
ert Todd  Lincoln,  after  Mrs.  Lincoln's  father.  Lincoln  had 
always  been  fond  of  children,  and  the  deeps  of  tenderness  in 
his  nature  were  stirred  by  the  bliss  that  this  little  child  brought. 
He  delighted  to  watch  the  growth  of  his  small  son,  and  he 
resolved  that  this  boy  should  have  the  advantages  of  education 
which  he  himself  had  missed. 

One  of  the  secrets  of  his  strong  hold  on  the  affections  of  his 
friends  was  his  sympathy  for  them  in  their  disappointments 
and  misfortunes.  So,  as  Baker  had  been  most  grievously  dis- 
appointed in  his  expectations  of  getting  the  nomination  for 
Congress,  Lincoln  told  him  he  would  do  his  utmost  to  help  him 
get  it  the  next  year;  a  promise  that  he  fulfilled.  He  had  that 
consideration  for  others  that  is  part  of  a  big  nature,  and  his 
friends  were  held  as  part  of  himself.  Nor  was  it  possible  for 
him  to  regard  his  clients  simply  in  the  light  of  business.  An 
unfortunate  man  was  an  object  of  his  sympathy,  no  matter 
what  his  business  relation  to  him  might  be.  A  Mr.  Cogdal  met 
with  financial  disaster,  and  employed  Lincoln  as  his  lawyer 
to  settle  up  his  business.  At  the  close  of  the  matter  he  gave  to 
Lincoln  a  note  to  cover  the  fees.  Soon  thereafter  the  man  lost 
his  hand  by  the  accidental  discharge  of  powder.  Lincoln  met 


230  LINCOLN 

him  some  time  after  the  accident,  on  the  steps  of  the  State 
House. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Cogdal?"  he  said  in  greeting.  "How 
are  you  getting  along?" 

"Badly  enough,"  answered  Mr.  Cogdal.  "I  am  both  broken 
up  in  business,  and  crippled.  By  the  way,  I  have  been  thinking 
about  that  note  of  yours." 

"Well,  you  need  not  think  about  it  any  more,"  said  Lincoln 
taking  the  note  out  of  his  pocket,  and  handing  it  to  him. 

"Oh,  but—"  protested  Mr.  Cogdal.  "I  did  not  intend— I  only 
meant  that  you  would  have  to  wait  a  little.  I — " 

"Cogdal,  I  wouldn't  take  that  money  if  you  had  it,"  spoke 
Lincoln  earnestly.  "Why,  I've  been  in  tight  boats  myself,  and 
I  always  took  a  helping  hand  when  it  was  held  out  to  me.  I 
would  not  feel  right  about  taking  money  from  you."  And  he 
hurried  away. 

Yet  at  the  time  he  was  writing  to  Speed  that  he  could  not 
afford  to  bring  his  wife  to  Kentucky  for  a  visit  that  summer 
because  of  his  poverty.  Still,  his  affairs  were  improving.  His 
debts  were  gradually  lessening,  he  was  keeping  his  expenses 
in  hand,  and  finances  were  wearing  a  brighter  face  than  they 
had  ever  done.  He  was  becoming  known  as  one  of  the  best 
lawyers  who  rode  the  circuit.  He  studied  his  cases  with  great 
thoroughness,  and  was  so  uniformly  successful  that  the  people 
regarded  him  as  having  no  equal.  His  practice  was  growing. 

"Riding  the  circuit  was  a  peculiar  business,  and  tended  to 
develop  peculiar  traits  of  character."  Each  District  had  its 
presiding  judge  whom  the  lawyers  followed  from  county  to 
county  as  he  held  court  at  each  county-seat.  For  the  most  part 
the  lawyers  travelled  horseback,  with  a  change  of  raiment,  a 
few  law  books,  and  other  articles  indispensable  to  the  travel- 


THE  RISING  POLITICIAN  231 

ler  in  his  saddle-bags.  Some  few  attorneys,  quite  often  the 
judge,  rode  in  gigs.  Sometimes  the  cavalcade  stopped  at  cabins 
by  the  way  to  eat,  or  sleep,  or  feed  the  horses ;  more  often  the 
evenings  were  spent  at  the  country  taverns.  The  life  was  rich 
with  incidents,  and  Lincoln  loved  it.  It  was  on  these  jaunts  that 
he  picked  up  many  of  the  stories  that  in  after  years  made  him 
famous  as  an  impromptu  story-teller. 

Once,  while  riding  the  circuit,  Lincoln  was  missed  from  the 
party,  having  loitered  apparently  near  a  thicket  of  wild  plum- 
trees  where  the  company  had  stopped  to  water  their  horses. 

"Where's  Lincoln?"  was  asked  from  one  to  another.  "Do  you 
know  where  Lincoln  is?"  they  queried  of  one  of  their  number 
who  rode  up  at  this  moment. 

"Lincoln?  Well,  when  I  saw  him  last,  he  had  caught  two 
young  birds  that  the  wind  had  blown  out  of  their  nest,  and 
was  hunting  for  the  nest  to  put  them  back." 

"We  might  as  well  start  on,"  said  another.  "If  Lincoln  has 
started  hunting  that  nest  he'll  keep  on  until  he  finds  it,  if  it 
takes  him  all  day.  I  never  knew  a  man  to  be  so  tender-hearted 
towards  animals." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  pig  he  rescued?"  cried  another  as 
the  cavalcade  started  slowly  on.  "No?  Well,  it  was  several  years 
ago  when  Lincoln  first  began  to  ride  the  circuit.  He  was  riding 
by  himself  on  this  occasion,  and  all  at  once  he  saw  a  pig  strug- 
gling in  a  deep  slough.  The  slough  was  so  deep,  and  the  pig  so 
weak  from  the  efforts  he  had  made  to  get  out  that  Lincoln  saw 
that  the  animal  could  not  help  himself.  He  had  on  a  new  suit 
of  clothes,  and  it  was  pretty  deep  mud  that  the  pig  was  in,  so 
that  if  he  tried  to  free  the  animal  he  was  almost  certain  to 
get  his  new  clothes  muddy.  So  he  rode  on ;  but  he  couldn't  rid 
his  mind  of  the  picture  of  the  pig  struggling  in  the  mire.  After 


232  LINCOLN 

riding  two  miles  he  stopped,  turned,  and  deliberately  rode  back 
to  the  place.  Tying  his  horse,  he  went  to  work  to  build  of  old 
rails  a  passage  to  the  bottom  of  the  hole.  When  it  was  finished 
he  went  down,  seized  the  pig,  and  dragged  him  out,  getting 
nicely  bespattered  the  while.  Then  he  washed  his  hands  in  the 
nearest  brook,  wiped  them  on  the  grass,  and  rode  along. 

"When  he  reached  court,  and  we  rallied  him  on  his  muddy 
clothes,  he  told  us  about  it.  When  we  laughed  at  him  for  exhib- 
iting so  much  sympathy  for  a  dumb  brute,  he  said  that  it  was 
not  benevolence  on  his  part,  but  pure  selfishness.  That  he  did  it 
to  'take  a  pain  out  of  his  own  mind.'  " 

The  lawyers  laughed  at  this  new  view  of  the  nature  of  sym- 
pathy, and  while  they  were  still  chuckling  Lincoln  himself 
rode  up. 

"Did  you  find  the  nest,  Lincoln?"  was  his  greeting. 

"Yes,"  Lincoln  told  them  briefly.  Then,  as  they  rallied  him 
on  his  tender-heartedness  he  added:  "I  could  not  have  slept 
unless  I  had  restored  those  little  birds  to  their  mother." 

The  months  passed  away,  and  brought  Lincoln  to  the  great 
political  contest  of  1844.  In  May  of  that  year,  at  the  District 
Convention,  he  was  made  a  Presidential  Elector,  an  honorable 
and  laborious  post.  As  it  had  been  determined  to  elect  the 
candidates  for  Congress  a  year  before  vacancies  were  to  oc- 
cur Baker  became  the  party's  nominee  for  Congress. 

Lincoln  flung  himself  into  the  campaign  with  all  his  heart, 
for  the  candidate  for  President  was  his  beloved  and  idolized 
leader,  Henry  Clay.  When  he  was  a  young  fellow,  working  at 
Posey's  Landing  on  the  Ohio,  he  had  read  the  Life  of  Clay, 
and  he  had  been  a  student  of  his  public  life  ever  since.  The 
principles  of  the  great  Whig  leader  he  had  made  his  own,  and 
it  was  with  enthusiasm  that  he  travelled  to  the  remotest  parts 


THE  RISING  POLITICIAN  233 

of  the  State  to  talk  to  the  people  in  their  dialect,  with  their  own 
habits  of  thought  and  feeling  in  favor  of  the  Whig  candidate. 

The  campaigning  was  simple  and  informal — a  Democrat  and 
a  Whig  travelling  together,  and  discussing  matters  before 
gatherings  of  men  of  the  different  neighborhoods  in  the  most 
friendly  manner.  Often  one  tried  to  outstrip  the  other  by  mak- 
ing himself  agreeable  to  the  women  of  the  household ;  for  many 
votes  were  still  cast  in  Illinois  out  of  personal  liking. 

At  one  time,  William  L.  D.  Ewing,  a  Democrat,  accompa- 
nied Lincoln  on  a  campaign.  Both  men  were  eager  to  win 
the  favor  of  one  of  their  hostesses,  whose  husband  was  an  im- 
portant man  in  the  neighborhood.  Neither  had  made  much 
progress  during  the  afternoon,  so,  at  milking- time,  as  the  woman 
took  her  pail  and  started  for  the  yard,  Mr.  Ewing  sprang  to 
her  side  and  took  the  pail  from  her  hands. 

"Let  me  do  the  milking,  madam,"  he  said  insistently.  "It 
will  give  me  great  pleasure." 

The  hostess  demurred,  but  Mr.  Ewing  persisted,  and,  with 
a  glance  of  triumph  at  Lincoln,  sat  down  by  the  cow  and  went 
to  milking,  talking  loudly  to  the  lady  all  the  while.  Not  re- 
ceiving any  answer  he  looked  around,  only  to  see  her  and  Lin- 
coln leaning  comfortably  over  the  bars,  engaged  in  an  animated 
discussion.  Much  chagrined,  for  he  believed  that  he  had  exe- 
cuted a  masterly  stroke,  Mr.  Ewing  finished  his  task.  His 
hostess  received  the  foaming  pail  with  many  thanks. 

"I  appreciate  it  the  more  because  it  gave  me  a  chance  to 
have  such  a  pleasant  talk  with  Mr.  Lincoln,"  she  added. 

Ewing's  glance  was  eloquent  as  he  met  Lincoln's  twinkling 
eyes. 

"What  would  you  have  done,  Lincoln,  if  I  hadn't  milked?" 
he  asked  as  they  passed  on  their  way. 


234  LINCOLN 

"I  would  have  done  the  milking  myself,"  chuckled  Lincoln. 

In  the  latter  end  of  the  canvass  Lincoln  was  asked  to  speak 
in  Indiana,  the  invitation  being  given  by  prominent  Whigs 
who  had  heard  him  speak  in  Illinois.  He  accepted,  being  much 
moved  by  the  prospect  of  speaking  in  his  former  home.  He 
spoke  at  Bruceville,  at  Rockport,  his  old  county-seat,  and  near 
Gentryville,  his  old  home.  Many  of  his  one-time  friends  and 
neighbors  came  to  hear  him,  proud  and  delighted  that  the  boy 
of  whom  they  had  prophesied  great  things  should  justify  their 
predictions.  He  was  a  prominent  man,  they  told  each  other,  and 
he  had  grown  up  among  them.  They  crowded  about  him, 
pleased  that  he  remembered  them,  pleased  too  at  the  cordiality 
with  which  he  greeted  them,  and  touched  by  his  emotion  at  be- 
ing with  them  once  more. 

In  those  days  an  Indiana  audience  measured  the  importance 
of  a  speaker  by  the  number  of  books  and  pamphlets  he  brought 
with  him.  Lincoln  came  without  a  printed  page,  and  it  bothered 
Josiah  Crawford  who  had  come  to  hear  him  speak. 

"Where's  your  books,  Abe?"  he  asked. 

"I  haven't  any,  Uncle  Josiah,"  answered  Lincoln  laughing. 
"Sticking  out  my  lip  is  all  that  I  need."  * 

The  answer  tickled  Mr.  Crawford  who,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, used  to  twit  Lincoln  when  he  was  working  for  him  with 
studying  with  his  lip.  He  told  the  story  often  afterwards. 

After  the  speaking  was  over  Mr.  Crawford  asked  Lincoln 
to  go  home  with  him,  an  invitation  he  accepted  eagerly,  pleased 
with  the  opportunity  to  talk  over  old  times  with  him.  To  return 
after  a  long  absence  of  years  to  one's  childhood  home  brings 
a  sort  of  Rip  Van  Winklish  feeling  to  one.  To  observe  the 
changes  which  have  taken  place  in  familiar  tilings  brings  one  to 

i  This  incident  given  by  Miss  Tarbell  in  "Footsteps  of  the  Lincolns." 


THE  RISING  POLITICIAN  235 

a  realization  of  the  passage  of  Time  as  nothing  else  does.  So 
Lincoln  was  deeply  moved  as  he  stood  again  by  the  lonely 
grave  in  the  forest  where  rested  the  form  of  that  mother  whom 
he  had  loved  so  well.  Vivid  memories  of  his  boyhood  were 
awakened.  To  visit  all  the  old  familiar  spots  was  saddening 
yet  it  was  pleasurable  too,  and  he  found  his  whole  being 
stirred  to  the  utmost  by  his  trip. 

The  annexation  of  Texas  was  one  of  the  most  hotly  discussed 
questions  of  the  campaign  of  1844.  The  Whigs  opposed  the 
annexation,  but  it  was  to  their  cost.  For  Texas,  which  had 
achieved  its  independence  of  Mexico,  was  filled  with  Ameri- 
cans, and  its  annexation  was  inevitable. 

In  consequence  of  this  opposition  the  "gallant  Harry  of 
the  West"  went  down  to  defeat.  Probably  no  defeat  of  a  great 
party  ever  brought  to  its  members  so  much  of  personal  sor- 
row as  did  the  defeat  of  Henry  Clay  by  James  K.  Polk  of  Ten- 
nessee. Clay  was  the  idol  of  his  party,  and  it  was  completely 
demoralized  by  his  overthrow.  To  Lincoln  his  defeat  was  a  keen 
and  personal  grief. 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 


THE  HONORABLE  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


Realizing  that  a  tavern  was  no  place  for  a  young  child  Lin- 
coln and  his  wife  decided  to  buy  a  home  for  themselves.  He 
was  still  in  debt,  but  was  gradually  emerging  therefrom;  so  he 
bought  a  house  and  lot  on  the  corner  of  Eighth  and  Jackson 
Streets,  a  few  blocks  from  the  public  square.  It  was  a  plain, 
two-story  house,  with  a  barn,  a  small  garden  spot,  and  a  door- 
yard.  A  retaining  wall,  surmounted  by  a  picket  fence,  lifted 
it  above  the  street.  It  was  painted  white  with  green  blinds,  and 
was  set  in  the  midst  of  great  shade  trees, — a  simple  and  unpre- 
tentious home,  like  its  neighbors. 

When  Lincoln  was  not  away,  making  speeches  or  riding  the 
circuit,  he  milked  the  cow,  took  care  of  the  horse,  and  attended 
to  the  garden.  For  a  number  of  years,  until  they  were  out  of 
debt,  they  were  unable  to  keep  a  maid,  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  did 
her  own  work.  She  liked  everything  orderly,  and  the  house  was 
always  spick-and-span.  "Her  table  became  famed  for  the  ex- 
cellence of  many  rare  Kentucky  dishes,  and  for  the  venison, 
wild  turkeys,  and  other  game  then  so  abundant."  So  well  did 
she  manage  that  Lincoln  trusted  her  implicitly  with  all  house- 
hold matters.  She  kept  up  social  connections  that  would  be  of 

236 


THE  HONORABLE  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN     237 

benefit  to  him  politically,  and  was  "quick  to  detect  those  who 
had  designs  upon  and  sought  to  use  them.  She  was  an  excellent 
judge  of  human  nature,  and  a  better  reader  of  men's  motives 
than  her  husband."  1  Though  the  home  was  simple  and  modest 
it  soon  became  a  centre  of  attraction  in  the  little  capital,  be- 
cause of  the  cordial  welcome  given  to  guests  by  the  hostess,  and 
Lincoln's  wit,  humor,  anecdotes,  and  conversation. 

In  the  meantime,  as  Judge  Logan  wished  to  take  his  son 
David  into  the  office  with  him,  he  and  Lincoln  dissolved  part- 
nership, and  Lincoln  opened  an  office  of  his  own.  A  partner 
was  indispensable  to  a  lawyer  at  the  time,  so  that  one  could 
remain  in  the  office  while  the  other  rode  the  circuit.  As  soon, 
therefore,  as  Lincoln's  office  was  well  under  way  he  went  to 
the  quarters  of  William  H.  Herndon,  and  invited  him  to  be- 
come his  partner. 

William  H.  Herndon  was  nine  years  younger  than  Lincoln. 
They  had  become  acquainted  in  Joshua  Speed's  store  where 
young  Herndon  had  been  a  clerk.  He  was  also  one  of  the 
young  men  who  had  roomed  with  Speed  and  Lincoln.  He  was 
well-educated,  had  studied  law  after  his  experience  in  clerking, 
and  Lincoln  understood  and  liked  him.  Overwhelmed  by  the 
invitation,  for  the  younger  man  had  but  little  practice  and 
Lincoln's  was  extensive,  Herndon  refused  the  offer. 

"I  haven't  much  experience,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  he  said.  "I'm 
afraid  that  I  wouldn't  be  much  of  a  credit  to  you." 

"Billy,"  returned  Lincoln  earnestly,  "I  can  trust  you,  if  you 
can  trust  me." 

Gratefully  the  young  man  accepted  the  generous  offer ;  and 
thus  was  formed  a  partnership  that  was  never  dissolved.  The 
office  of  Lincoln  and  Herndon  was  in  a  brick  building  on  the 

i  Herndon's  Life  of  Lincoln. 


238  LINCOLN 

public  square,  opposite  the  State  House.  One  went  up  a  flight 
of  stairs  and  then  passed  along  a  hallway  to  the  rear  office, 
which  was  a  medium  sized  room.  There  was  one  long  table  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  and  a  shorter  one  running  in  the  op- 
posite direction,  forming  a  T,  and  both  were  covered  with  green 
baize.  There  were  two  windows  which  looked  into  the  back 
yard.  In  one  corner  was  an  old-fashioned  secretary  with  pigeon- 
holes and  a  drawer,  and  here  the  partners  kept  their  law  papers. 
There  was  also  a  book-case  containing  about  two  hundred  vol- 
umes of  law  as  well  as  miscellaneous  books. 

The  firm  kept  no  books.  They  divided  their  fees  without  tak- 
ing any  receipts  or  making  entries  in  books.  When  Lincoln 
went  out  on  the  circuit,  his  partner  was  usually  at  home  looking 
after  things.  Sometimes  he  took  up  and  disposed  of  cases  that 
were  never  entered  at  the  office.  In  receiving  the  fees  for  such 
cases  he  divided  the  money  into  halves,  wrapped  his  partner's 
share  in  a  piece  of  paper,  wrote  his  name  upon  it,  and  the  case 
in  which  it  was  received,  placing  it  in  a  separate  compartment 
of  his  pocketbook  where  it  remained  until  he  could  turn  it  over. 
There  was  never  any  misunderstanding  or  question  of  money 
injustice  between  Lincoln  and  his  partner. 

March  10,  1846,  Lincoln's  heart  was  gladdened  by  the  birth 
of  another  boy.  They  called  him  Edward  Baker. 

"We  have  another  boy,"  he  wrote  a  few  weeks  later  to  his 
friend  Speed.  "He  is  very  much  such  a  child  as  Bob  was  at  his 
age,  rather  of  a  longer  order.  Bob  is  'short  and  low,'  and  I  ex- 
pect always  will  be.  He  talks  very  plainly — almost  as  plainly 
as  anybody.  He  is  quite  smart  enough.  I  sometimes  fear  he  is 
one  of  the  rare-ripe  sort  that  are  smarter  at  about  five  years 
than  ever  after.  He  has  a  great  deal  of  that  sort  of  mischief  that 
is  the  offspring  of  such  animal  spirits. 


THE  HONORABLE  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN     239 

"Since  I  began  this  letter  a  messenger  came  to  tell  me  Bob 
was  lost ;  but  by  the  time  I  had  reached  the  house  his  mother  had 
found  him,  and  had  whipped  him,  and  by  now,  very  likely,  he 
is  run  away  again." 

After  Baker's  election  in  1844,  it  was  generally  taken  as 
a  matter  of  course  in  the  District  that  Lincoln  was  to  be  the 
next  candidate  of  the  Whig  party  for  Congress.  There  was  a 
sort  of  tacit  understanding  among  the  Whigs  that  whoever 
should,  at  each  election  gain  the  honor  of  representing  the 
District,  should  be  satisfied  with  one  term,  and  not  be  a  can- 
didate for  re-election.  And  this  because  there  were  so  many  can- 
didates, and  but  one  Whig  District  in  the  State.  The  retiring 
member,  however,  was  not  always  convinced  of  the  propriety 
of  this  arrangement. 

The  Convention  was  held  at  Petersburg  on  the  1st  of  May, 
1846,  and  Lincoln  was  nominated  unanimously.  The  Spring- 
field "Journal,"  said,  in  its  announcement  of  the  fact:  "This 
nomination  was  of  course  anticipated,  there  being  no  other  can- 
didate in  the  field.  Mr.  Lincoln,  as  we  all  know,  is  a  good 
Whig,  a  good  man,  an  able  speaker,  and  richly  deserves,  as  he 
enjoys  the  confidence  of  the  Whigs  of  this  District  and  of  the 
State." 

The  Democratic  Convention  was  held  almost  immediately 
afterwards.  Lincoln  was  out  of  town  when  the  news  of  the  re- 
sults were  made  known,  and  he  did  not  know  until  his  return 
who  had  been  chosen  as  his  opponent.  Herndon  turned  a  grave 
face  towards  him  as  he  entered  the  office. 

"Have  you  heard  who  is  to  be  your  Democratic  rival,  Mr. 
Lincoln?"  he  asked. 

"No,  Billy;  and  I've  been  anxious  to  know.  Who  is 
he?" 


240  LINCOLN 

"Peter  Cartwright,  the  old  Methodist  Preacher,"  answered 
his  partner. 

Lincoln  gave  a  long  whistle. 

"Well,  Billy,  it's  not  going  to  be  any  circus  to  defeat  him; 
is  it?  He  is  the  best  known  man  in  the  District,  or  the  State 
for  that  matter.  I  am  afraid  that  when  he  gets  through  with 
this  canvass  there  won't  be  enough  left  of  me  to  make  a  little 
yellow  dog.  You  know  there  was  a  fellow  once  who  advertised 
that  he  had  made  a  discovery  by  which  he  could  make  a  new 
man  out  of  an  old  one  and  have  enough  of  the  stuff  left  to 
make  a  little  yellow  dog.  My  chances  for  even  the  dog  are 
slim." 

Herndon  laughed,  then  said  earnestly: 

"We've  all  got  to  work,  Mr.  Lincoln.  We  can't  let  any  grass 
grow  under  our  feet.  Mr.  Cartwright  will  be  hard  to  beat." 

Other  of  Lincoln's  friends  felt  the  same  way,  and  went  en- 
ergetically into  the  canvass.  Peter  Cartwright,  the  famous 
backwoods  preacher,  was  now  about  sixty  years  of  age,  and 
in  the  height  of  his  popularity.  He  had  already  been  in  the 
Legislature  twice,  and  had  a  personal  following  which,  begin- 
ning with  his  children  and  grandchildren  and  extending 
through  every  part  of  the  district  made  him  an  adversary  to  be 
respected. 

Joshua  Speed  came  up  from  Kentucky  to  do  what  he  could 
to  help  his  friend,  and  the  Whigs  contributed  a  purse  of  tw;> 
hundred  dollars  to  defray  Lincoln's  personal  expenses  during 
the  campaign.  The  election  was  held  in  August,  and  Lincoln 
was  elected  by  a  large  majority.  Indeed,  it  was  the  largest 
vote  ever  given  to  a  candidate  in  the  District,  his  majority  over 
his  opponent  being  1511. 

After  the  election  was  over  Lincoln  handed  Speed  $199.25 


THE  HONORABLE  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN     241 

of  the  two  hundred  dollars  which  had  been  given  him,  request- 
ing that  he  would  return  it  to  the  subscribers.  Speed  demurred. 

"See  here,  old  fellow,"  he  said;  "that  was  for  your  personal 
expenses." 

"I  did  not  need  the  money,  Speed.  I  made  the  canvass  on 
my  own  horse;  my  entertainment,  being  at  the  homes  of  my 
friends,  cost  me  nothing;  and  my  only  outlay  was  seventy-five 
cents  for  a  barrel  of  cider,  which  some  farm  hands  insisted  that 
I  treat  them  to." 

"But  we  wanted  you  to  spend  it,"  protested  Speed. 

"I  didn't  need  it,"  said  Lincoln  again,  "and  I  would  rather 
you  would  return  it  to  those  who  subscribed  it,  although  I  am 
grateful  to  our  friends  for  having  done  it.  I  would  have  used  it 
gladly  had  I  needed  it." 

"You  don't  seem  particularly  elated  over  the  election,  after 
all,  Lincoln,"  commented  his  friend. 

"It  doesn't  please  me  as  much  as  I  expected,"  said  Lincoln. 

"It  will  later,"  comforted  Speed.  "You  are  tired  now  from 
the  campaign,  and  naturally  feel  that  the  game  is  not  worth 
the  candle.  When  you  are  rested  you  will  look  at  it  in  a  dif- 
ferent light.  Disillusion  always  comes  with  success." 

A  little  more  than  a  year  was  to  elapse 'before  Lincoln's  de- 
parture for  Washington  to  enter  upon  his  duties  as  a  member 
of  Congress,  and  before  the  time  expired  the  Mexican  War 
had  begun.  In  admitting  Texas,  Congress  had  opened  the  way 
to  serious  trouble,  for  Mexico  protested  against  the  admission. 
This  protest  was  soon  followed  by  a  more  critical  exigency,  an 
active  boundary  dispute.  Texas  claimed  the  Rio  Grande  River 
as  her  western  boundary;  Mexico  held  that  the  Nueces  River 
was  the  true  boundary.  Between  these  two  streams  lay  a  broad 
tract  of  land  claimed  by  both  nations,  and  which  both  sought  to 


242  LINCOLN 

occupy.  War  arose  in  consequence  of  this  ownership  dispute. 

The  efforts  to  avoid  it  had  not  been  active.  Both  countries 
being  ripe  for  war,  both  had  taken  steps  to  bring  it  on.  Abra- 
ham Lincoln,  in  common  with  other  Whigs,  opposed  the  Dec- 
laration of  War,  but  Congress  and  the  Administration  favored 
it,  and  called  for  "fifty  thousand  volunteers."  Though  the 
Whigs  opposed  the  war,  when  the  call  for  volunteers  came, 
they  responded  with  alacrity.  In  Illinois  some  of  the  bravest 
men  and  best  legal  talent  marched  with  the  regiments.  Lincoln 
saw  many  of  his  friends  go — H'ardin,  Baker,  Bissell,  and 
Shields,  his  one  time  fellow  duellist,  and  others;  some  of  them 
never  came  back.  Soon  the  glamour  of  the  victories  achieved  by 
American  arms  blinded  the  people  to  the  moral  aspects  of  the 
question,  and  everything  was  lost  sight  of  but  the  issues  of  the 
war  and  the  manner  of  its  prosecution.  But  Lincoln  held  to 
his  belief  that  the  war  was  wrongfully  'begun  as  was  evidenced 
later  in  Congress. 

In  November,  1847,  with  his  wife  and  the  two  children,  he 
started  for  Washington  travelling  east  by  stage  and  steam- 
boat across  the  Alleghanies  to  the  city  on  the  Potomac.  As  a 
concession  to  his  wife's  ideas  of  what  was  proper  for  him  in 
dress,  Lincoln  wore  a  neat  black  cloth  suit,  and  a  tall  silk  hat 
known  as  a  stovepipe.  It  was  a  style  of  apparel  he  ever  after- 
wards affected.  He  found  the  hat  very  convenient  as  a  reposi- 
tory for  papers. 

Washington,  at  this  time,  was  a  great  straggling  village, 
with  unpaved  streets  which  gave  forth  clouds  of  dust  in  sum- 
mer and  were  deep  in  mud  in  winter.  There  were  a  number  of 
public  buildings;  but,  for  the  most  part,  though  a  beautiful 
city  had  been  planned,  it  was  as  yet  a  city  of  promise  rather 
than  one  of  fulfillment.  But  Lincoln  was  stirred  to  the  depths 


THE  HONORABLE  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN     243 

of  his  being  by  the  knowledge  that  at  last  he  stood  in  the  Seat 
of  Government. 

As  hotel  accommodations  were  limited  Lincoln  took  his  fam- 
ily to  live  at  Mrs.  Sprigg's  Club,  in  "Duff  Green's  Row,"  1  on 
Capitol  Hill.  Several  other  members  of  Congress  also  boarded 
with  Mrs.  Sprigg,  and  there  were  a  number  of  "messes,"  as 
the  boarding-clubs  for  Congressmen  were  called,  scattered 
about  the  neighborhood.  Lincoln  soon  won  his  way  among 
them,  his  simple,  sincere  friendliness  and  his  quaint  humor  se- 
curing him  recognition  from  the  first. 

The  Congress  convened  on  the  6th  of  December,  and  at 
once  Lincoln  felt  entirely  at  home.  The  fact  that  he  was  the 
only  Whig  member  from  the  State  of  Illinois  gave  him  con- 
siderable prominence  from  the  start.  The  Congress  held  many 
eminent  men  at  this  time.  In  the  Senate  were  Daniel  Webster, 
Lewis  Cass,  John  A.  Dix,  Thomas  H.  Benton,  John  C.  Cal- 
houn, Jefferson  Davis,  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  and  other  well- 
known  statesmen.  It  is  noteworthy  that  Stephen  A.  Douglas 
took  his  seat  as  United  States  Senator  for  the  first  time  at 
this  session.  It  seemed  destined  that  the  "tallest  man  in  the 
House,  and  the  shortest  man  in  the  Senate"  should  never  lose 
sight  of  each  other.  In  the  House  of  Representatives  were  ex- 
President  John  Quincy  Adams,  Caleb  B.  Smith,  John  G.  Pal- 
frey, Robert  C.  Winthrop,  Andrew  Johnson,  Alexander  H. 
Stephens,  and  others  who  were  to  become  famous  in  the 
"stormy  times  then  making  ready  in  the  distance."  Among  this 
illustrious  company  Lincoln  soon  became  recognized  as  a  man 
of  marked  ability. 

As  has  been  said  the  Whigs  abhorred  the  war,  but  Lincoln 
had  been  cautioned  by  his  friends  to  say  nothing  in  opposition 

i  Now  occupied  by  the  Congressional  Library. 


244  LINCOLN 

to  it.  He  had  fully  intended  not  to  do  so,  but  the  Administration 
wished  to  secure  from  Congress  not  only  necessary  supplies 
and  additional  men  to  carry  on  the  war,  but  also  a  resolution 
declaring  that  the  war  was  just  and  right.  Lincoln  voted  for  the 
supplies  and  men ;  for  money  to  pay  the  soldiers,  and  to  reward 
their  bravery  in  action;  but,  with  others  of  his  party  in  Con- 
gress, both  Northern  and  Southern  Whigs,  refused  his  sanc- 
tion to  the  resolution  that  the  war  was  just  and  right;  voting 
on  the  contrary,  a  resolution  that  the  war  had  been  "unneces- 
sarily and  unconstitutionally"  begun.  On  December  22nd,  he 
made  his  debut  in  the  House  by  a  Series  of  Resolutions,  after- 
wards called  the  "Spot  Resolutions,"  which  were  meant  to  show 
that  the  "Spot"  where  the  war  began  was  not  in  United  States 
Territory.  In  fact,  that  the  Administration  had  taken  pains  to 
bring  on  the  war.  In  January  he  followed  up  these  resolutions 
with  a  speech  in  support  of  his  position. 

His  people  back  home  criticised  him  mercilessly  for  these 
resolutions,  and  for  the  stand  he  had  taken  regarding  the  war. 
He  found  himself  compelled  to  justify  his  position  with  even 
his  oldest  friends;  a  hard  situation  for  a  politician. 

Surely  there  was  all  the  more  evidence  of  the  patriotism  of 
a  man  who,  doubting  the  expediency  and  even  the  entire  justice 
of  the  war,  nevertheless  supported  it,  because  it  was  the  war  of 
his  country.  The  resolutions  in  the  Session  made  it  impossible 
for  him  to  do  otherwise  than  declare  himself. 

In  June,  1848,  the  National  Whig  Convention  met  at  Phila- 
delphia to  nominate  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency,  and  Lin- 
coln was  one  of  the  delegates.  It  was  a  campaign  of  contra- 
dictions. The  Whigs,  while  they  opposed  the  war,  yet  chose 
General  Zachary  Taylor  as  their  nominee — not  because  of  his 


THE  HONORABLE  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN     245 

fitness  for  the  office,  but  because  he  had  won  fame  at  Buena 
Vista  and  other  battlefields,  and  also  because  he  had  not  been 
in  favor  of  carrying  the  war  forward  to  the  banks  of  the  Rio 
Grande.  The  war  was  ended  now,  but  all  parties  were  trying 
to  take  advantage  of  the  military  prestige  gained  by  its  partici- 
pants. Lincoln  returned  to  Washington  full  of  enthusiasm  for 
his  candidate. 

"In  m}T  opinion  we  shall  have  a  most  overwhelming,  a  glori- 
ous triumph,"  he  wrote  home  to  a  friend.  "One  unmistakable 
sign  is  that  all  the  odds  and  ends  are  with  us.  Barnburners,  Na- 
tive Americans,  Tyler  men,  disappointed  office-seekers,  Loco- 
focos,  and  the  Lord  knows  what.  This  is  important,  if  in  noth- 
ing else,  in  showing  which  way  the  wind  blows." 

It  also  showed  how  the  parties  were  beginning  to  break  up, 
a  sign  which  Lincoln  was  too  astute  a  politician  not  to  see.  Cam- 
paigning had  already  begun  on  the  floor  of  Congress,  and  the 
members  were  daily  making  speeches  for  the  various  candi- 
dates. A  most  reprehensible  custom,  but  one  then  in  vogue. 
On  July  27th  Lincoln  made  a  speech  concerning  the  points  at 
issue  between  the  two  parties,  and  the  merits  of  the  respective 
candidates,  General  Cass  having  received  the  nomination  of  the 
Democratic  party.  As  an  electioneering  speech  it  could  not 
have  been  improved,  and  was  reported  the  country  over  by  the 
Whig  Press.  The  last  half  hour  it  kept  the  House  in  an  uproar 
of  merriment,  and  the  Baltimore  "American,"  giving  a  synop- 
sis of  it,  called  it  "the  crack-speech  of  the  day." 

In  consequence  of  this  speech,  when  Congress  adjourned  in 
August,  the  National  Whig  Committee  asked  Lincoln  to  go 
into  Massachusetts  to  deliver  some  speeches.  Lincoln  demurred 
at  first,  saying, 


246  LINCOLN 

"Why,  my  hair  is  full  of  hayseed,  and  Massachusetts  is  the 
most  cultured  State  in  the  Union.  Its  people  will  not  care 
to  hear  me." 

In  the  end,  however,  he  was  prevailed  on  to  go,  and  went 
early  in  September.  The  first  speech  was  to  be  delivered  at 
Worcester  where  the  Whig  State  Convention  met  to  nominate 
a  candidate  for  Governor,  and  the  most  eminent  Whigs  of  Mas- 
sachusetts were  present. 

At  a  mass-meeting  of  delegates  and  others,  held  in  Mechan- 
ics' Hall — an  immense  building — Lincoln  was  announced  to 
speak.  No  one  was  there  who  had  ever  heard  him  on  the  stump, 
and  in  fact  knew  anything  about  him.  When  he  was  announced, 
his  tall,  angular,  bent  form,  his  manifest  awkwardness  and  low 
tone  of  voice,  promised  nothing  interesting.  But  he  soon 
warmed  to  his  work.  He  rolled  back  the  sleeves  of  his  coat,  then 
the  cuffs  of  his  shirt.  Next  he  loosened  his  necktie,  and  pres- 
ently took  it  off  altogether.  All  this  time  he  was  gaining  upon 
his  audience.  He  soon  had  it  by  a  spell.  The  people  were  de- 
lighted. He  began  to  bubble  out  with  humor.  His  style  and 
manner  were  novelties  in  the  East.  He  repeated  anecdotes,  told 
stories  admirable  in  humor  and  in  point,  interspersed  with  true 
eloquence,  which  constantly  brought  down  the  house,  and  when- 
ever he  attempted  to  stop,  the  shouts  of  "Go  on!  Go  on!"  were 
deafening.1 

At  the  close  of  this  masterly  and  convincing  speech,  the  audi- 
ence gave  three  cheers  for  Illinois,  and  three  more  for  the 
eloquent  Whig  member  from  that  State.  After  this  speech 
Lincoln  spoke  at  Dorchester,  Dedham,  Roxbury,  and  Chelsea ; 
and  on  September  22nd  in  Tremont  Temple,  Boston,  follow- 


i  Ex-Governor   Gardiner   in   a   Brief   History   of   the   Whig   Convention   of   1848, 
Herndon. 


THE  HONORABLE  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN     247 

ing  a  splendid  oration  by  Governor  William  H.  Seward.  He 
made  a  marked  impression  on  all  his  audiences,  and  such  was 
his  success  that  invitations  came  from  all  over  New  England 
asking  him  to  speak.  "The  Atlas,"  to  which  many  of  these  re- 
quests were  sent,  was  finally  obliged  to  print  with  regret  the 
news  of  his  departure  for  his  home  in  Illinois. 

But  Lincoln  had  gained  something  by  this  visit  to  Massa- 
chusetts :  he  had  glimpsed  the  gulf  that  lay  between  the  attitude 
of  the  North  towards  slavery,  and  that  of  the  South  towards 
the  institution.  His  own  attitude  at  this  time  was  that  it  was 
legally  right,  morally  wrong,  and  he  was  opposed  to  its  exten- 
sion. But  after  listening  to  Governor  Seward's  speech  in  Tre- 
mont  Temple  he  felt  the  seriousness  of  the  situation  more 
deeply :  and  that  night,  as  the  two  men  sat  talking  at  the  hotel, 
he  said  gravely  to  the  great  anti-slavery  advocate : 

"Governor  Seward,  I  have  been  thinking  about  what  you 
said  in  your  speech.  I  reckon  you  are  right.  We  have  got  to 
deal  with  this  slavery  question,  and  got  to  give  more  attention 
to  it  hereafter  than  we  have  been  doing." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 


IN    PRIVATE   LIFE 


Lincoln  returned  to  Springfield  by  way  of  Buffalo  and 
Niagara  Falls.  Years  before  when  he  had  seen  the  Ohio  River 
for  the  first  time  he  had  exclaimed,  "Oh,  pa,  where  does  all  that 
water  come  from?"  And  now,  thirty-two  years  afterward,  the 
thing  that  struck  him  most  forcibly  was  the  volume  of  water, 
and  he  vented  his  wonder  in  the  query:  "Where  in  the  world 
does  all  that  water  come  from?" 

On  reaching  Springfield  he  devoted  his  time  to  furthering 
the  cause  of  General  Taylor,  and  he  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  triumph  of  the  Whigs  in  his  election  to  the  Presi- 
dency. There  were  but  a  few  weeks  between  the  close  of  the 
Presidential  Campaign  and  the  commencement  of  the  second 
session  of  the  Thirtieth  Congress,  and  Lincoln  gave  these  to 
arranging  his  business  and  home  affairs.  His  younger  boy, 
Edward  Baker,  was  not  very  well,  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  decided 
to  remain  at  home  in  Springfield  until  he  was  better;  so 
Lincoln  departed  for  Washington  without  his  family  in  the 
latter  part  of  November. 

The  second  session  of  this  Congress  was  comparatively  a 

248 


IN  PRIVATE  LIFE  249 

quiet  one.  Peace  had  been  ratified  between  Mexico  and  the 
United  States  at  Guadalupe  Hidalgo,  in  February,  the  Presi- 
dential Campaign  was  over,  and  there  was  a  lull  in  National 
Politics  for  the  time  being.  The  session  of  Congress  preceding 
the  inauguration  of  a  new  President  is  apt  to  be  dull,  and  rou- 
tine business  is  about  all  that  is  brought  forward. 

Lincoln  was  constantly  in  his  place,  serving  still  upon  the 
Committee  on  Postoffices  and  Post  Roads  to  which  he  had 
been  assigned  the  previous  session.  He  was  chiefly  occupied, 
however,  in  drawing  up  a  bill  to  abolish  slavery  in  the  Dis- 
trict of  Columbia.  In  common  with  many  others  he  thought 
it  a  shame  and  a  disgrace  that  traffic  in  slaves  should  be  carried 
on  right  under  the  shadow  of  the  Capitol  in  which  Congress  as- 
sembled to  carry  on  national  business.  Lincoln  knew  that  he 
could  do  nothing  with  such  a  hill  unless  he  had  the  support  of 
the  voters  of  the  District,  so  he  took  counsel  with  some  of  the 
leading  citizens  of  Washington  and  some  of  the  more  promi- 
nent of  the  members  of  Congress  before  bringing  it  forward. 

It  was  a  moderate  bill.  It  recognized  property  in  slaves,  for 
it  provided  that  the  Government  should  buy  and  free  the  slaves 
held  in  the  District,  but  it  excited  such  a  storm  of  protest  that 
it  never  came  to  a  vote. 

Soon  after,  Congress  adjourned,  and  he  returned  to  Spring- 
field. As  has  been  said,  there  was  but  one  Whig  district  in  the 
State,  and  there  were  many  Whigs  ambitious  to  represent  it. 
So  it  was  the  custom  for  no  man  to  serve  two  terms  in  succes- 
sion; therefore,  Lincoln  was  not  a  candidate  for  re-election. 
Rut  his  practice  was  dissipated,  and  he  saw  that  he  should  have 
to  build  it  up  again.  He  was  urged  by  many  of  his  Whig 
friends  to  become  an  applicant  for  the  office  of  Commissioner 
of  the  General  Land  Office,  which  was  an  office  he  would  have 


250  LINCOLN 

liked,  but  he  had  already  promised  his  influence  to  secure  it  for 
others  of  his  friends,  and  the  prize  went  to  Justin  Butterfield 
of  Chicago. 

But  the  Administration  felt  that  something  was  due  to 
Abraham  Lincoln  for  his  efforts  in  its  behalf,  so  he  was  of- 
fered the  post  of  Governor  or  Secretary  of  the  Territory  of 
Oregon.  This  offer  appealed  to  Lincoln.  It  was  more  suited 
to  him  than  the  other,  and  he  was  favorably  inclined  towards  it. 
He  resolved  to  consult  his  wife  on  the  matter. 

"Mary,  how  would  you  like  to  go  to  Oregon  as  the  wife  of 
the  Governor?"  he  asked  at  dinner  one  day  by  way  of  open- 
ing the  subject. 

"Abraham  Lincoln,  surely  you  are  not  thinking  of  going  to 
a  way-off  place  like  that?'"  exclaimed  his  wife. 

"Well,  the  Administration  has  offered  me  the  refusal  of  such 
a  position,"  replied  Lincoln.  "I  thought  I'd  talk  it  over  with 
you.  You  see  if  I  were  to  take  it,  later — when  it  is  admitted  as 
a  State — I  might  be  returned  to  Congress  as  its  first  Senator. 
Some  of  my  friends  think  it  would  be  advisable  to  accept  it." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Lincoln  with  some 
tartness.  "It  would  get  you  out  of  the  way  of  their  ambitions." 

"My  dear,"  reproved  Lincoln  who  never  believed  ill  of  any 
one.  "I  am  sure  there  are  no  such  thoughts  in  their  minds.  You 
see  my  practice  is  pretty  badly  broken  up,  and  will  have  to  be 
built  up  again.  It  may  take  a  long  while — " 

"Abraham,  you  would  be  throwing  yourself  away,"  inter- 
rupted his  wife.  "Springfield  is  as  much  of  a  frontier  as  I  care 
to  be  in,  or  to  have  the  children  in.  As  for  your  practice  you 
are  a  lawyer  of  skill  and  reputation.  Mr.  Edwards  says  so,  and 
so  do  others.  It  won't  be  long  before  you  will  have  all  the  busi- 
ness that  you  can  attend  to.  Your  term  in  Congress  will  in- 


IN  PRIVATE  LIFE  251 

crease  your  value.  You  will  have  more  prestige  and  standing 
than  you  ever  had.  As  for  the  Senatorship !  There  is  no  reason 
in  the  world  why  you  should  not  be  Senator  from  Illinois 
some  day.  Illinois  is  the  place  for  you  in  any  case." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  observed  Lincoln  thoughtfully. 
He  was  amazed  at  his  wife's  quick  grasp  of  the  situation.  "Any- 
way we  won't  go  if  you  don't  want  to  go.  But  don't  delude 
yourself  with  hopes  of  my  getting  the  Senatorship.  My  po- 
litical career  is  over.  You  see  the  people  didn't  like  my  taking 
the  stand  I  did  on  the  Mexican  War." 

"They'll  forget  all  that,  and  call  on  you  if  any  emergency 
arises,"  was  Mrs.  Lincoln's  wise  comment.  "Mr.  Edwards  says 
that  there  isn't  another  man  in  the  party  who  can  talk  to  the 
people  as  you  can;  that  they  depend  upon  you  to  reach  the 
people  for  them.  Anyway,  whether  you  go  back  into  politics  or 
not,  I  would  rather  stay  here." 

"All  right,  Mary,"  said  Lincoln  again.  His  wife's  wishes 
were  law  to  him.  "We  won't  go.  I  hope  that  we  are  making  no 
mistake." 

It  was,  however,  a  fortunate  deliverance  for  him,  as  Lincoln 
found  later.  In  accordance  with  the  modest  view  he  took  of  his 
attainments  it  was  with  diffidence  that  he  consulted  with  Wil- 
liam H.  Herndon. 

"Billy,"  he  said,  "Mary  wants  me  to  turn  down  the  Oregon 
proposition,  and  go  on  with  the  law  here  in  Springfield.  I 
reckon  I'd  better  open  up  another  office.  While  I  was  in  Con- 
gress the  most  of  my  practice  passed  into  other  hands,  and  what 
business  you  have  has  been  acquired  by  your  own  exertions.  It 
doesn't  seem  a  fair  shake  to  you  to  come  back  and  share  in 
your  practice  and  profits." 

"But  your  value  has  increased  as  a  partner,  Mr.  Lincoln," 


252  LINCOLN 

responded  Herndon.  "Besides,  you  aided  me  and  gave  me 
prominence  when  I  was  young  and  needed  it.  Suppose  we  let 
the  partnership  go  on?" 

"AH  right,  Billy,  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it.  I  shall  be 
happier  here  with  you  than  with  any  one  else." 

So  Lincoln  resumed  his  law  practice  with  more  earnestness 
than  ever  before,  and  with  more  success  than  he  had  ever  had. 
As  a  member  of  the  State  Legislature  and  of  Congress,  as  a 
lawyer  on  the  circuit  he  had  associated  with  men  of  refinement 
and  culture.  All  these  contacts  had  shown  him  a  certain  lack 
in  himself  of  close  and  sustained  reasoning.  To  remedy  this 
defect  he  now  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  Euclid,  and  mas- 
tered the  first  six  books,  retaining  thereafter  an  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  principles  involved.  He  carried  too  a  well- 
worn  copy  of  Shakespeare  in  which  he  read  a  great  deal  in  his 
leisure  moments,  and  familiarized  himself  with  other  works  of 
general  literature. 

His  partner,  William  H.  Herndon,  was  imaginative,  and 
often  grew  enthusiastic,  sometimes  adopting  a  lofty  metaphor 
by  way  of  embellishment  in  his  speeches.  Lincoln  spoke  to  him 
warningly  one  day: 

"Billy,  don't  shoot  too  high — aim  lower  and  the  common  peo- 
ple will  understand  you.  They  are  the  ones  you  want  to  reach 
— at  least  they  are  the  ones  you  ought  to  reach.  The  educated 
and  refined  peoj^le  will  understand  you  anyway.  If  you  aim 
too  high  your  ideas  will  go  over  the  heads  of  the  masses,  and 
only  hit  those  who  need  no  hitting." 

It  was  the  secret  of  his  own  success  in  speaking  to  the  peo- 
ple. In  the  making  of  points  which  come  home  to  the  general 
mind  Lincoln  was  never  surpassed  by  any  American  orator. 

The  honesty  of  his  character  was  always  evident  in  his  prac- 


IN  PRIVATE  LIFE  253 

tice.  With  him  justice  and  truth  were  paramount.  If  a  thing 
were  not  true  he  wished  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  At  one 
times  Messrs.  Stuart  and  Edwards  brought  suit  against  a  client 
of  Lincoln  and  Herndon  which  involved  the  title  of  a  consid- 
erable property.  The  plaintiffs  were  pressing  for  a  trial,  which 
the  partners  were  anxious  to  ward  off  until  the  next  term  of 
court.  During  Lincoln's  absence  Herndon  overheard  a  remark 
from  Stuart  indicating  his  fear  lest  a  certain  fact  should  come 
into  the  possession  of  Lincoln  and  Herndon.  Full  of  glee  Hern- 
don drew  up  a  skilfully  worded  plea,  framed  as  though  they 
knew  the  fact  and  had  the  evidence  to  sustain  it ;  a  plea  which, 
if  presented,  was  certain  to  bring  about  the  postponement  of 
the  suit.  Lincoln  came  into  court  before  the  plea  was  presented, 
and,  as  was  his  custom,  looked  carefully  over  the  papers  in  the 
case.  Coming  to  the  false  plea,  he  glanced  at  it,  then  asked: 

"Billy,  is  this  seventh  plea  a  good  one?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  answered  Herndon  proudly. 

"But  is  it  founded  on  fact?"  asked  Lincoln  incredulously. 

"No,"  confessed  Herndon.  "It  isn't;  but  it's  a  mighty  good 
plea  for  all  that."  He  followed  up  his  answer  with  an  explana- 
tion of  what  he  had  overheard  wStuart  say.  "Now,  if  we  put  a 
certain  construction  on  these  alleged  facts  they  can  be  called 
facts,  and  our  client  can  obtain  the  time  we  need.  If  we  don't 
he  may  be  ruined.  Therefore,  I  claim  that  the  use  of  this  plea 
is  justifiable,"  he  concluded. 

Lincoln  scratched  his  head  thoughtfully. 

"Hadn't  we  better  withdraw  that  plea,  Billy?"  he  asked. 
"You  know  it's  a  sham,  and  a  sham  is  very  often  but  another 
name  for  a  lie.  Don't  let  it  go  on  record.  The  cursed  thing  may 
come  staring  us  in  the  face  long  after  this  suit  has  been  for- 
gotten." 


254  LINCOLN 

Herndon  grumbled,  but  he  withdrew  the  plea.  It  was  by 
such  scrupulous  honesty  that  Lincoln  won  a  standing  and  a 
reputation  which  were  worth  more  to  him  than  fine  gold. 

His  retention  by  a  man  to  defend  a  law  suit  did  not  prevent 
him  from  throwing  it  up  in  its  most  critical  stage  if  he  learned 
that  he  was  espousing  an  unjust  cause.  He  never  believed  in 
suing  for  a  fee.  If  a  client  would  not  pay  on  request,  he  never 
sought  to  enforce  collection.  Nor  would  he  encourage  litiga- 
tion. He  always  counselled  the  young  men  who  came  into  the 
office  to  study  law: 

"Discourage  litigation.  Persuade  your  neighbors  to  com- 
promise whenever  you  can.  Point  out  to  them  the  nominal  win- 
ner is  often  a  real  loser — in  fees,  expenses,  and  waste  of  time. 
As  a  peacemaker  the  lawyer  has  a  superior  opportunity  of 
being  a  good  man.  There  will  still  be  business  enough."  And 
no  man  at  the  Bar  ever  carried  out  this  advice  more  conscien- 
tiously than  he. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  he  was  one  of  the  best  known  and  best 
liked  men  in  the  Eighth  Judicial  Circuit.  This  circuit  was  a 
large  one,  extending  over  fourteen  counties,  and  was  more 
than  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  broad,  yet  there  was  not  a 
county-seat  where  his  arrival  was  not  made  a  little  festival. 
The  bench  and  the  bar  would  gather  at  the  tavern  where  he 
was  expected  to  give  him  a  cordial  welcome.  Whatever  his 
cares  he  never  inflicted  them  upon  others.  He  talked  well,  but 
never  about  himself.  "He  was  full  of  wit  which  never  wounded, 
of  humor  which  mellowed  the  harshness  of  that  new  raw  life 
of  the  prairie.  He  never  asked  for  help,  but  he  was  always 
ready  to  give  it."  x 

If  Lincoln  could  be  of  service  to  any  one  he  was  always 

i  Nicolay   and    Hay. 


IN  PRIVATE  LIFE  255 

willing  to  oblige,  no  matter  in  what  capacity.  His  fellow  law- 
yers often  twitted  him  on  this  trait.  One  day,  in  December, 
1849,  occurred  such  an  incident.  The  court  was  sitting  at  De- 
catur, and  had  been  dismissed  for  the  noon  recess.  The  usual 
crowd  of  witnesses,  clients,  itinerant  peddlers,  showmen,  and 
other  curious  folk,  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  lawyers  as  the 
latter  made  their  way  to  the  Macon  House.  A  wagon  was 
backed  up  to  the  steps  of  the  front  door,  completely  blocking 
the  entrance. 

"What's  in  that  box  in  the  wagon,  Mr.  Krone?"  some  one 
asked  the  landlord. 

"That  there's  a  piano,"  was  the  answer.  "There's  a  woman 
stopping  here  wants  it  unloaded,  but  we're  short  of  men.  Who 
will  lend  a  hand?" 

There  was  a  big  crowd  of  men,  but  none  of  them  offered.  A 
piano  was  a  curiosity  at  the  time,  and  this  particular  instru- 
ment had  been  shipped  down  the  Ohio  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Wabash,  and  up  the  Wabash  to  Crawfordsville,  Indiana.  From 
Crawfordsville  it  had  been  carted  to  Decatur  in  a  wagon.  The 
men  were  so  busily  discussing  the  probable  route  that  they  did 
not  think  of  offering  assistance.  Seeing  this  Lincoln  threw  off 
his  big  gray  Scotch  shawl  which,  in  the  fashion  of  the  time,  he 
wore  around  his  shoulders,  and  stepped  forward. 

"Come  on,  Swett,"  he  called  to  a  fellow  attorney.  "You  are 
the  next  biggest  man." 

Mr.  Swett  stepped  forward  and  after  a  few  moments'  con- 
versation with  the  driver  of  the  wagon,  Lincoln  went  into  the 
basement  of  the  hotel  where  the  landlord  kept  a  carpenter  shop, 
and  returned  with  two  heavy  timbers  across  his  shoulders.  With 
these  he  established  communication  between  the  wagon  and  the 
front  door  steps.  Then,  amid  the  jeers  and  laughter  of  the 


256  LINCOLN 

crowd,  the  wagon  was  unloaded  with  the  help  of  two  other  men. 

Before  the  legs  had  been  screwed  into  place  dinner  was  an- 
nounced, and  there  was  a  scramble  for  the  dining  room.  At 
the  taverns  the  judge  and  the  lawyers  sat  at  one  end  of  the 
table,  while  the  witnesses  and  prisoners,  with  the  ordinary 
guests  sat  at  the  other.  On  this  day  Lincoln  sat  down  at  the 
wrong  end  of  the  table  among  the  common  folks,  Judge  Davis, 
who  ruled  the  whole  bar  with  a  rod  of  iron,  called  down  to 
him : 

"Come  up  here  where  you  belong,  Lincoln." 

"Got  anything  better  to  eat  at  your  end,  judge?"  drawled 
Lincoln.  He  remained  where  he  was. 

After  dinner  Lincoln,  who  never  left  anything  uncompleted, 
superintended  the  setting  up  of  the  piano,  even  to  seeing  that 
it  set  squarely  in  the  centre  of  the  wall  space  allotted  to  it. 
As  Mrs.  Johns,  the  lady  to  whom  the  instrument  belonged, 
thanked  him  for  his  aid,  he  said, 

"May  we  have  a  tune  before  we  go?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  sitting  down  at  once,  and  opening  the 
piano.  "And  further,  you  have  been  so  kind,  Mr.  Lincoln, 
that  if  you  and  the  others  desire  it  I  will  give  a  concert  to- 
night for  you." 

"Why  that  would  give  us  great  pleasure,  Mrs.  Johns,"  re- 
turned Lincoln.  "We  don't  often  have  such  a  treat  on  the  cir- 
cuit." 

That  evening  a  notable  crowd  gathered  in  the  parlor  of  the 
Macon  House,  Judge  Davis,  and  practically  all  the  members 
of  the  Eighth  Judicial  Circuit  being  present.  Mrs.  Johns 
found  that  some  of  the  men  could  sing  and  play  and  she  called 
on  them  for  assistance. 

She  played  the  "Battle  of  Prague,"  the  "Carnival  of  Ven- 


IN  PRIVATE  LIFE  257 

ice,"  and  followed  with  "Washington's  March."  She  sang 
Henry  Russell's  "Maniac,"  and  the  "Ship  on  Fire,"  then  made 
them  shiver  with  the  wild  wail  of  the  "Irish  Mother's  Lament." 
As  an  offset  to  these  she  followed  with  "Old  Dan  Tucker," 
"Lucy  Long,"  and  "Jim  Crow."  Some  of  the  men  sang 
"Rocked  in  the  Cradle  of  the  Deep,"  "Bonaparte's  Grave," 
and  "Kathleen  Mavourneen,"  and  other  songs  then  in  vogue. 
As  the  musicians  paused  to  rest  Mrs.  Johns  said, 

"Couldn't  some  of  you  gentlemen  recite  something,  or  make 
us  a  speech?  We  ought  to  have  variety  in  our  entertainment." 

Mr.  Swett,  who  had  been  one  of  the  singers,  turned  at  once 
towards  Lincoln. 

"Lincoln,  what  was  that  piece  you  were  reciting  this  morn- 
ing? Mr.  Lincoln,"  he  said,  turning  towards  the  others,  "gets 
up  before  his  roommates,  and  either  studies  or  muses  before  the 
fire.  This  morning  he  recited  a  poem  that  seemed  to  me  very 
fine.  Let  us  hear  it,  won't  you,  Lincoln?" 

"It's  a  poem  of  which  I  am  very  fond,"  said  Lincoln  rising 
slowly.  "It  seems  to  me  as  much  like  true  poetry  as  anything  I 
ever  heard.  I  do  not  know  the  name  of  the  author,  or  if  I  ever 
knew  I  have  forgotten  it.  It  is  called  'Immortality.'  "  * 

"'Oh,  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud? 
Like  a  swift -flying  meteor,  a  fast-flying  cloud, 
A  flash  of  the  lightning,  a  break  of  the  wave, 
He  passeth  from  life  to  rest  in  the  grave. 

"  'The  leaves  of  the  oak  and  the  willow  shall  fade, 
Be  scattered  around,  and  together  be  laid ; 
And  the  young  and  the  old,  and  the  low  and  the  high, 
Shall  molder  to  dust,  and  together  shall  lie. 

i  This  poem  is  by  William  Knox,  a  Scotch  pastoral  poet.  It  was  Lincoln's  favorite 
poem. 


258  LINCOLN 

"  'The  infant  a  mother  attended  and  loved, 

The  mother  that  infant's  affection  who  proved, 
The  husband  that  infant  and  mother  who  blest — 
Each,  all,  are  away  to  their  dwellings  of  rest. 

"  'The  maid,  on  whose  cheek,  on  whose  brow,  in  whose  eye, 
Shone  beauty  and  pleasure,  her  triumphs  are  by ; 
And  the  memory  of  those  who  loved  her  and  praised, 
Are  alike  from  the  minds  of  the  living  erased. 

"'The  hand  of  the  king  that  the  sceptre  hath  borne, 
The  brow  of  the  priest  that  the  mitre  hath  worn 
The  eye  of  the  sage,  and  the  heart  of  the  brave, 
Are  hidden  and  lost  in  the  depths  of  the  grave. 

"  'The  peasant  whose  lot  was  to  sow  and  to  reap, 

The  herdsman  who  climbed  with  his  goats  up  the  steep, 
The  beggar  who  wandered  in  search  of  his  bread, 
Have  faded  away  like  the  grass  that  we  tread. 

"'The  saint  who  enjoyed  the  communion  of  Heaven, 
The  sinner  who  dared  to  remain  unforgiven, 
The  wise  and  the  foolish,  the  guilty  and  just, 
Have  quietly  mingled  their  bones  in  the  dust. 

"  'So  the  multitude  goes,  like  the  flower  or  the  weed 
That  withers  away  to  let  others  succeed; 
So  the  multitude  come,  even  those  we  behold, 
To  repeat  every  tale  that  has  often  been  told. 

"  'Yea,  hope  and  despondency,  pleasure  and  pain, 
Are  mingled  together  in  sunshine  and  rain  ; 
And  the  smile  and  the  tear,  the  song  and  the  dirge, 
Shall  follow  each  other  like  surge  upon  surge. 


IN  PRIVATE  LIFE  259 

"  'Tis  the  wink  of  an  eye,  'tis  the  draught  of  a  breath, 
From  the  blossom  of  health  to  the  paleness  of  death, 
From  the  gilded  saloon  to  the  bier  and  the  shroud — 
Oh,  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud?'  " 

There  was  silence  for  a  time  after  this,  and  then  Mrs.  Johns 
said,  as  she  went  again  to  the  piano. 

"That  calls  for  something  devout  as  an  appropriate  ending 
to  the  evening's  entertainment."  Forthwith  she  sang,  "He 
Doeth  All  Things  Well." 

When  she  had  finished  Lincoln  thanked  her  for  the  pleasure 
she  had  given  them,  and  said  gravely,  as  there  came  calls  for 
more  music  from  the  crowd: 

"Don't  let's  spoil  that  song  by  any  more  music  tonight." 

A  sentiment  in  which  the  lady  concurred.1 

1  This  incident  taken  from  the  Reminiscences  of  Mr6.  Jane  Martin  Johns.  Given 
in  "The  Soul  of  Abraham  Lincoln,"  by  Dr.  Barton. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 


THE   FALLOW    YEARS 


In  the  weeks  that  followed  Lincoln  found  it  hard  to  sub- 
scribe to  the  belief  that  all  things  are  for  the  best.  When  court 
on  the  circuit  for  the  time  being  was  over,  and  he  returned  home 
in  January  he  found  that  the  younger  boy,  Edward  Baker, 
was  quite  ill.  Mrs.  Lincoln  met  him  at  the  door  with  the  infor- 
mation. She  was  worn  and  pale. 

"What  seems  to  be  the  matter  with  him,  Mary?"  asked  Lin- 
coln anxiously,  immediately  troubled. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  Abraham,"  she  uttered  brokenly.  "Dr. 
Wallace  says  it's  a  childish  complaint,  but  he  seems  worried 
anyway.  I  have  about  given  up  all  hope.  He  looks  so,  so — " 
and  she  burst  into  tears. 

"There,  there,"  spoke  Lincoln  tenderly  drawing  her  to  him. 
"You  are  tired  and  worn  out.  Perhaps  it's  not  so  bad  as  you 
fear." 

But  he  was  filled  with  misgiving  as  he  saw  the  fever-flushed 
countenance  of  his  little  son,  and  felt  the  hot  throbbing  pulse. 

The  child  lacked  but  a  month  of  completing  his  fourth  year, 
and  was  an  attractive  little  fellow.  Lincoln  was  passionately 

260 


THE  FALLOW  YEARS  261 

attached  to  his  children,  and  they  idolized  him.  Now  when  the 
little  boy  saw  his  father  he  held  out  his  arms  to  him. 

"Hold  me,  papa,"  he  said. 

And  Lincoln  held  him.  All  night  with  his  wife  and  the  phy- 
sician he  watched  over  the  little  sufferer.  Days  passed  in  which 
he  scarcely  left  the  child's  bedside;  days  fraught  with  keenest 
anxiety.  At  length  there  came  a  time  when,  at  the  end  of  a  long 
night  of  watching,  the  physician  lifted  the  still  form  of  the  little 
son  who  would  never  call  to  him  again  from  Lincoln's  arms, 
and  laid  it  gently  on  the  bed. 

"He  is  past  all  suffering  now,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  he  said. 

In  the  dark  time  that  followed  it  seemed  to  Lincoln  that 
light  had  gone  out  of  his  life,  but  he  stifled  his  bitter  grief 
in  the  effort  to  comfort  his  wife.  Perhaps  there  is  no  anguish 
so  poignant  as  that  which  accompanies  the  loss  of  a  little  child. 
No  bereavement  that  leaves  such  utter  desolation  behind.  The 
patter  of  little  feet  is  heard  no  more;  the  soft  touch  of  little 
hands  is  no  longer  felt;  the  prattle  of  the  childish  voice  is 
stilled;  the  smiles  of  the  little  face  no  longer  seen — Ah!  the 
blankness,  the  desolateness ;  the  heart  so  lonely,  lonely! 

The  rector  of  the  Episcopalian  Church,  with  which  body 
Mrs.  Lincoln  was  affiliated,  being  out  of  the  city,  the  Reverend 
Dr.  James  Smith,  the  new  pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church,  was  called  to  officiate  at  the  funeral. 

Dr.  Smith  was  a  good  man,  and  spoke  such  words  of  com- 
fort to  the  bereaved  parents  that  they  took  him  at  once  into 
their  hearts.  Lincoln  rented  a  pew  in  his  church,  and  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln joined  its  membership. 

There  was  always  something  vaguely  familiar  about  the 
pastor  to  Lincoln.  Somewhere  he  had  seen  him  before,  but  he 
could  not  place  him.  When  he  was  sixteen  years  of  age  he  had 


262  LINCOLN 

heard  a  sermon  by  a  travelling  Presbyterian  minister.  The  sub- 
ject was:  "Is  there  no  Balm  in  Gilead?  Is  there  no  Physician 
there?"  The  sermon  was  delivered  at  Rockfort,  four  miles 
from  his  father's  farm  in  Indiana,  and  he  had  been  much  im- 
pressed by  it.  Soon  after  the  death  of  his  boy  he  was  startled 
to  hear  the  same  sermon  preached  by  Dr.  Smith.  He  sought 
him  as  soon  as  the  services  were  over. 

"Was  it  you,  doctor,  who  preached  that  sermon  at  Rockfort 
long  ago?"  he  asked. 

"It  must  have  been,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  was  the  reply.  "For  I 
delivered  this  sermon  at  Rockfort  twenty-five  years  ago.  But 
how  strange  for  you  to  remember  it  all  these  years!" 

"I  have  never  forgotten  it,"  Lincoln  told  him,  "and  never 
shall.  It  made  a  deep  impression  on  me  at  the  time." 

Dr.  Smith  presented  him  with  a  copy  of  his  book,  "The 
Christian's  Defense,"  which  Lincoln  read  with  close  attention. 
He  told  Dr.  Smith  that  he  regarded  its  argument  as  unan- 
swerable. A  mutual  and  congenial  friendship  developed  be- 
tween the  two. 

The  sadness  of  the  household  was  lightened  when,  on  De- 
cember 21st  of  that  year,  1850,  another  boy  came  to  gladden 
them.  They  named  him  William  Wallace  Lincoln,  and  his  ad- 
vent did  much  to  heal  the  soreness  of  Lincoln's  heart.  He  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  he  was  with  his  children,  and  when  at 
home  devoted  some  time  every  day  to  them.  He  played  ball 
or  marbles  with  Bob,  as  Robert  was  called,  and  talked  to  and 
fondled  the  Baby  Willie. 

It  is  said  that  one  death  in  a  family  is  always  followed  by 
another.  Lincoln  recalled  the  old  superstition  when  in  Jan- 
uary he  received  a  letter  from  John  Johnston,  his  step-brother, 
telling  him  that  his  father  was  very  ill;  so  ill,  in  fact,  that  it 


THE  FALLOW  YEARS  263 

was  probable  that  he  would  not  get  well.  It  was  impossible  for 
Lincoln  to  leave  home  at  the  time.  Mrs.  Lincoln  was  ill,  and  he 
was  burdened  with  many  cares.  So  he  sent  money  to  get  what- 
ever was  necessary  for  his  father's  comfort,  and  wrote  to  John : 

"I  sincerely  hope  that  father  may  yet  recover  his  health; 
but,  at  all  events,  tell  him  to  remember  to  call  upon  and  con- 
fide in  our  good  and  merciful  Father  and  Maker,  who  will  not 
turn  away  from  him  in  any  extremity.  He  notes  the  fall  of  the 
sparrow,  and  numbers  the  hairs  of  our  heads;  and  he  will  not 
forget  the  dying  man  who  puts  his  trust  in  Him.  Say  to  him 
that  if  we  could  meet  now,  it  is  doubtful  whether  it  would  not 
be  more  painful  than  pleasant,  but  that  if  it  be  his  lot  to  go  now, 
he  will  soon  have  a  joyful  meeting  with  the  loved  ones  gone 
before,  and  where  the  rest  of  us,  through  the  mercy  of  God, 
hope  erelong  to  join  them." 

Lincoln  had  never  lost  sight  of  his  father  and  step-mother. 
Through  all  the  years  he  had  aided  them  by  gifts  of  money  and 
comforts,  often  when  he  could  ill  afford  to  do  so.  During  his 
first  year  in  Congress  he  had  finished  paying  off  his  own  in- 
debtedness from  his  salary,  which  left  him  able  to  aid  them  in 
a  more  substantial  manner  than  he  had  ever  done.  At  the  close 
of  the  second  session  of  the  Thirtieth  Congress  he  had  re- 
turned from  Washington  to  Springfield  by  way  of  his  father's 
place  at  Goose  Neck  Prairie,  a  small  farming  community  in 
Coles  County  where  Thomas  Lincoln  had  finally  settled,  and 
had  paid  off  the  mortgage  on  the  farm  thus  making  him  owner 
of  two  hundred  acres  of  land,  free  and  clear. 

There  had  been  many  appeals  to  him  for  monej'-  which  he 
had  always  met  very  cheerfully,  when  he  had  it,  and  he  had  in 
every  way  shown  his  filial  affection.  And  not  only  had  he 
aided  his  parents  but  others  of  his  relatives  as  well.  His  step- 


264  LINCOLN 

brother,  John  Johnston,  who  was  an  easy-going  and  unthrifty 
person,  applied  every  now  and  again  for  a  lift,  and  usually  got 
it;  though  Lincoln  knew  that  often  these  benefactions  were 
imprudently  used.  He  had  never  held  himself  aloof  but  had 
always  shown  the  greatest  consideration  for  his  relatives,  go- 
ing to  see  them  whenever  he  was  in  their  neighborhood,  and  he 
never  assumed  the  slightest  superiority  to  them. 

Thomas  Lincoln  died  in  January,  1851,  at  the  age  of  73 
years.  He  had  lived  to  see  his  son  become  one  of  the  best- 
known  men  and  leading  lawyers  of  the  State,  and  had  grown 
proud  of  his  ability  to  "talk  politics,"  although,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, that  often  he  had  reproved  his  son  for  that  very 
thing. 

Lincoln's  heart  was  full  when  he  received  word  of  his  death. 
Faults  are  forgotten  at  such  a  time,  and  so  he  thought  tenderly 
of  his  father,  remembering  only  how  happy-go-lucky,  and 
good-natured  he  had  been.  Perhaps,  after  all,  his  life,  lacking 
in  enterprise  and  ambition  though  it  was,  was  happier  than 
one  filled  with  the  strife  for  success.  Lincoln  was  growing 
graver,  and  was  much  given  to  reflection,  and  wondering  about 
many  things:  life,  death,  and  the  why  and  wherefore  of  the 
universe.  His  smoothly  shaven  face  was  sallow  and  deeply 
lined,  and  moods  of  abstraction  were  becoming  frequent.  And 
yet  it  was  said  of  him  that  "He  could  make  a  cat  laugh."  The 
truth  was  that  Lincoln  was  very  human,  and  was  honest  in  the 
expression  of  his  feelings,  whether  serious  or  otherwise. 

Moreover,  though  out  of  politics  so  far  as  self  was  concerned, 
he  was  far  from  being  indifferent  to  the  course  of  political  af- 
fairs, and  at  this  time  was  perturbed  over  certain  enactments 
of  Congress;  acts  that  were  supposed  to  settle  forever  every- 
thing pertaining  to  human  slavery  in  the  country,  but  which 


THE  FALLOW  YEARS  265 

satisfied  neither  the  North  nor  the  South.  They  were  so  un- 
satisfactory to  Lincoln  that  he  was  much  disturbed.  Once, 
when  he  and  Herndon  were  out  on  the  circuit  together,  he 
exclaimed  gloomily: 

"How  hard,  ah,  how  hard  it  is  to  die  and  leave  one's  coun- 
try no  better  than  if  one  had  never  lived  in  it!  The  world  is 
dead  to  hope,  dead  to  its  own  death  struggle,  made  known  by  a 
universal  cry.  What  is  to  be  done?  Is  anything  to  be  done? 
And  how  is  it  to  be  done?  Do  you  ever  think  of  these  things?" 

In  1852  he  accepted  reluctantly  the  place  of  Presidential 
Elector  on  the  Whig  ticket  of  the  State.  He  simply  remarked 
that  he  was  a  "standing  candidate  for  Whig  Elector,  but  sel- 
dom elected  anybody." 

The  campaign  was  one  in  which  General  Winfield  Scott  was 
pitted  against  General  Franklin  Pierce.  This  time  the  Demo- 
cratic nominee,  Franklin  Pierce,  was  chosen.  Although  Lin- 
coln consented  to  stand  on  the  Scott  electoral  ticket,  he  did  not 
go  into  the  canvass  with  his  customary  enthusiasm.  The  two 
big  parties,  Whigs  and  Democrats,  at  their  Conventions,  had 
solemnly  resolved  to  discountenance  any  further  renewal  of 
the  slavery  agitation,  a  stand  in  which  they  were  upheld  by  the 
Organs  of  the  Press  and  popular  opinion.  Thus  muzzled  on 
the  only  subject  on  which  he  felt  deeply  Lincoln  made  few 
speeches,  and  these  few  were  not  specially  noteworthy.  So 
true  is  it  that  one  can  neither  speak  nor  write  well  except  on 
subjects  in  which  the  whole  being  is  interested. 

It  may  be  noted  that  at  this  time  Lincoln  was  one  of  the 
few  lawyers  in  Springfield  who  was  not  afraid  to  undertake 
the  defense  of  any  one  who  had  been  engaged  in  helping  off 
fugitive  slaves.  It  was  a  very  unpopular  business,  and  few  felt 
that  they  could  afford  to  engage  in  it.  One  who  needed  such 


266  LINCOLN 

aid  went  to  Edward  D.  Baker,  and  was  refused  defense  frankly 
on  the  ground  that,  as  a  political  man,  he  could  not  afford  it. 
"Go  to  Lincoln,"  he  advised.  "If  he  is  at  home  he  will  take 
your  case.  I  don't  know  of  any  other  lawyer  who  would  dare 
do  it." 

One  afternoon  an  old  negro  woman  came  to  the  door  of  the 
office  in  which  both  Lincoln  and  Herndon  sat,  and  stood  hesi- 
tating upon  its  threshold. 

"What  can  we  do  for  you,  madam?"  asked  Lincoln  catching 
sight  of  her. 

"Is  you  all  Marster  Linkun?"  she  questioned  timidly. 

"I  am  Mr.  Lincoln,  but  not  master,"  said  Lincoln  kindly. 
"Come  in  and  have  a  chair.  Were  you  in  any  trouble  that  you 
wished  to  see  me?" 

"Yas,  suh;  yas;  thank  ye,  Marster — er  Mistah  Linkun.  I'se 
in  great  trubble,  suh.  You  see  hit  am  dis  way:  I'se  bohn  in 
slabery  down  in  ole  Kentucky.  En'  all  my  chilluns  am  bohn  in 
slabery  too.  Well,  we  'longed  to  Marster  Hinkle,  en  de  ole 
Marster  tuk  hit  inter  his  haid  ter  mobe  ter  Illinois.  When  he 
got  heah  he  said  dat  he  dassent  hole  us  niggahs  as  slabes  enny 
moah,  fo'  dis  am  a  Free  State.  En  what  did  he  do  but  set  us 
all  free.  Yas,  suh;  me  en  all  de  chilluns.  We  am  all  free  nig- 
gahs, suh." 

"That's  fine,"  said  Lincoln  heartily.  "Fine!  And  then  what 
happened?" 

"Well,  suh,  my  boy,  John,  as  likely  er  niggah  as  you  ebber 
see, — Marster — er — Mistah  Linkun,  went  off  ter  be  er  waitah 
on  de  ribber  boat ;  on  de  Mississip,  suh.  Dey  tuk  him  down  de 
ribber  ter  New'leans,  en  when  dey  ties  de  boat  ter  de  dock 
what  does  dat  fool  niggah  do  but  git  offen  dat  dere  boat, 
and  goes  er  walkin'  er  'bout  de  streets.  'Co'se  dey  nabs  him, 


THE  FALLOW  YEARS  267 

en  puts  him  in  de  calaboose ;  den  dey  tuks  him  into  coht,  en  den 
dey  fines  him,  en  now  deys  gwine  ter  sell  him  into  slabery  er- 
gin  ter  pay  his  fine,  en  de  'spenses." 

"But  where  was  the  boat?  Wouldn't  the  officers  help  him?" 

"De  boat  had  left,  suh.  En  John  he  gits  de  preacher  man 
what  kums  ter  de  calaboose  ter  write  ter  me  ter  git  him  outen 
de  jail.  Heah  am  de  lettah,  suh.  En,  en  you'll  git  him  back  fo' 
his  ole  mammy;  won't  you,  Mistah  Linkun?" 

The  tears  were  streaming  down  her  cheeks  as  she  finished  the 
pitiful  story.  It  was  the  custom  of  the  times  that  any  negro 
found  wandering  about  the  streets  at  night  without  a  pass  from 
his  owner  should  be  confined  in  the  jail  until  he  was  claimed. 
If  he  were  a  negro  from  another  State,  he  was  regarded  as  a 
runaway,  imprisoned,  tried,  fined,  and  often  sold  to  pay  his 
fine  and  the  expenses  of  the  trial.  Lincoln  read  the  letter  the 
chaplain  had  written,  and  found  the  story  to  be  just  as  she  had 
related  it.  He  was  much  moved,  and  turned  to  her  compas- 
sionately. 

"We'll  do  everything  we  can  to  bring  him  back  to  you,"  he 
promised.  "Billy,"  turning  towards  his  partner,  "will  you  go 
over  to  the  State  House,  and  ask  Governor  Bissell  if  there  is 
not  something  that  he  could  do  to  obtain  possession  of  this 
boy?  He  is  a  free  negro.  Surely  there  is  some  way  to  get  him 
out  of  jail  and  bring  him  home." 

Herndon  returned  after  a  short  absence,  with  an  exceedingly 
grave  face. 

"The  governor  regrets  very  much  to  say  that  there  is  no 
remedy  provided  by  the  Constitution  or  the  laws  for  such  a 
state  of  affairs.  He  says  that  there  is  nothing  he  can  do,"  re- 
ported Herndon. 

"By  the  Almighty!"  exclaimed  Lincoln  rising  to  his  feet  in 


268  LINCOLN 

great  excitement.  "I'll  have  that  negro  back  soon,  or  I'll  have 
a  twenty  years'  excitement  in  Illinois  until  the  governor  does 
have  a  legal  and  constitutional  right  to  do  something  in  the 
premises!" 

The  excitement  came  in  less  than  twenty  years,  but  not  in 
just  the  way  that  Lincoln  would  have  liked.  The  negro  was 
brought  back  soon,  but  the  two  lawyers  sent  money  of  their 
own  to  a  correspondent  in  New  Orleans  who  paid  the  boy's  fine 
and  other  expenses,  and  he  came  back  to  his  mother. 

So,  though  there  was  a  great  desire  for  peace  among  the 
people  of  both  sections,  though  weary  of  agitation,  agitation 
went  on.  The  compromise  measures  of  18.50  were  proving  a 
wretched  basis  for  peace,  and  neither  North  nor  South  was 
satisfied. 

In  the  office  of  Lincoln  and  Herndon  there  was  much  discus- 
sion of  the  subject  between  the  partners.  Herndon  was  an  ar- 
dent Abolitionist;  Lincoln  believed  slavery  to  be  wrong,  but 
that  by  the  Constitution  the  South  had  a  legal  right  to  its  slaves. 
That  is,  the  States  which  alread}^  had  slavery.  He  did  not  wish 
that  it  should  be  extended.  The  partners  kept  the  political  af- 
fairs of  the  whole  nation  under  attention.  Herndon  kept  the 
office  table  supplied  with  the  leading  Abolition  papers  of  the 
North.  Lincoln  subscribed  for  Southern  papers  and  periodicals. 

"Let  us  have  both  sides  on  our  table,  Billy,"  he  said.  "Each 
is  entitled  to  its  'Day  in  Court.'  " 

In  addition  to  the  full  use  of  the  exchanges  of  the  "Illinois 
State  Journal,"  and  the  Abolition  papers,  they  had  "The 
Charleston  Mercury,"  "The  Richmond  Enquirer,"  and  "The 
Louisville  Journal";  also  "The  Literary  Southern  Messenger," 
an  able  monthly,  a  political  and  literary  magazine,  formerly 


THE  FALLOW  YEARS  269 

edited  by  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  and  later  by  J.  R.  Thompson.1  So 
that  Lincoln  kept  in  touch  with  all  the  conflicting  opinions  of 
North  and  South,  East  and  West.  Had  he  known  what  lay  be- 
fore him  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  his  preparation  could  have 
been  more  thorough,  exact  and  comprehensive. 

When  a  farmer  wishes  a  bumper  crop  he  lets  the  land  lie 
fallow.  It  lies  there;  the  ground  seems  unproductive,  idle,  but 
it  is  gathering  and  storing  up  the  necessary  essentials  for  pro- 
ducing the  crop  that  is  to  be.  Silently  it  takes  what  it  needs 
from  the  air,  the  dew,  the  rain,  the  frost,  and  from  the  grass 
which  is  plowed  under.  When  at  last  it  is  ready,  the  ground 
seeded,  a  great  harvest  is  obtained. 

And  so  with  Lincoln.  To  all  appearance  these  years  were 
quiet,  peaceful  ones,  devoted  to  his  family  and  his  profession. 
But  he  was  studying,  reading,  reflecting,  and  progressing  men- 
tally. How  far  he  had  gone  men  were  later  amazed  to  learn. 
He  kept  in  touch  with  the  views  of  all  sections,  reviewing  and 
sifting  opinions,  until  there  was,  in  truth,  no  other  man  who 
understood  so  well  "how  all  the  people  were  thinking  or  why 
they  thought  as  they  did." 

On  the  4th  of  April,  1853,  Lincoln's  fourth  son  was  born. 
When  he  took  the  little  fellow  into  his  arms  for  the  first  time 
the  baby  cooed  and  smiled. 

"Why,  the  little  tadpole,"  exclaimed  Lincoln  delightedly. 

And,  though  the  child  was,  in  time,  named  Thomas  Thad- 
deus  Lincoln,  he  was  always  known  as  Tad. 

Robert,  the  oldest  son,  was  now  nearly  ten  years  old,  and 
was  a  sturdy  boy.  Willie  was  in  his  third  year,  and  Lincoln 
was  devoted  to  them.  There  were  those  who  claimed  that  he  "in- 

i  Personal  Recollections  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  by  Henry  B.  Rankin. 


270  LINCOLN 

dulged"  his  boys  too  much.  It  was  a  fact  that  he  could  deny 
them  nothing.  Perhaps  he  remembered  his  own  hard  childhood, 
and  its  lack  of  joys.  And  too,  he  had  lost  a  child.  One  is  apt 
to  be  over-indulgent  to  those  who  are  left  in  such  a  case.  His 
exceeding  love  for  his  own  boys  made  him  tender  to  all  boys; 
so  tender  that,  later,  boys  who  called  him  "Father  Abraham," 
never  appealed  to  him  in  vain  when  they  had  need  of  mercy  or 
forgiveness. 

So  the  days  glided  by,  peacefully,  serenely.  And  then  out 
of  a  clear  sky,  there  occurred  an  event  in  national  politics  that 
aroused  Lincoln  as  he  had  never  been  roused  before. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 


THE   STATESMAN 


The  Compromise  measures  of  1850  were  supposed  to  set- 
tle forever  the  slavery  question  for  the  country.  As  has  been 
said,  they  had  not  given  complete  satisfaction  to  either  North 
or  South,  but  attachment  for  the  Union  was  growing,  and  this 
sentiment  quickly  subdued  all  feeling  of  discontent.  Men  were 
beginning  to  be  willing  to  yield  a  great  deal  in  order  to  pre- 
serve the  Union,  and  there  had  been  much  talk  of  disunion  be- 
fore the  measures  passed.  But  after  their  passage  the  people 
fondly  dreamed  that  they  had,  in  current  phraseology,  reached 
a  "finality." 

To  encourage  unity  there  had  been  compromise  from  the 
very  birth  of  the  nation,  but  in  spite  of  it  the  agitation  concern- 
ing slavery  had  continued  with  the  growth  of  the  country,  and 
become  intensified  with  its  strength.  It  seemed  always  to  lie 
just  under  the  surface  of  politics  ready  to  burst  forth  on  the 
least  provocation.  To  further  their  own  ends  politicians  would 
drag  it  forth ;  so  perhaps  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  "Fi- 
nality" did  not  end  the  controversy  as  had  been  so  fondly 
hoped. 

271 


272  LINCOLN 

The  discovery  of  gold  in  California  had  caused  an  era  of 
wonder  to  dawn  upon  the  country.  Plains  and  mountains 
swarmed  with  emigrants  and  adventurers  bound  for  the  new 
El  Dorado.  The  whole  great  West  clamored  for  the  open- 
ing up  of  new  routes  of  travel  and  emigration,  and  of  new 
territories  to  settlement.  In  answer  to  this  demand  Oregon, 
Utah,  New  Mexico  and  Minnesota  were  organized  as  Terri- 
tories, and  in  1853  Kansas  and  Nebraska  began  to  knock  at  the 
door  of  Congress  to  be  organized  also.  As  these  lay  to  the  north 
and  west  of  Missouri  they  of  course  came  under  the  prohibition 
of  slavery  by  the  Missouri  Compromise  of  1820. 

In  his  position  as  Chairman  of  the  Senate  Committee  on 
Territories  it  was  the  duty  of  Stephen  A.  Douglas  to  handle 
the  opening  of  new  territories,  and  being  thoroughly  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  demand,  he  took  up  the  matter  immediately. 
There  had  been  much  trouble  between  the  Indians  of  the  west- 
ern lands  and  the  emigrants,  and  Douglas  knew  that  a  safe 
highway  to  the  Pacific  Coast  was  a  necessity.  Not  only  was 
such  a  highway  needed  for  the  thousands  who  were  annually 
crossing  the  plains  but  also  for  the  protection  of  Oregon  and 
California  in  time  of  war  and  as  a  bond  of  union  between  the 
East  and  the  West.  To  this  end,  therefore,  in  1853,  he  intro- 
duced two  bills  in  Congress,  one  following  the  other,  for  the 
organization  of  the  new  territories.  They  were  not  satisfactory 
to  the  members,  some  fearing  that  they  trespassed  upon  the 
Indian  lands,  so  did  not  pass.  And  then,  in  January  of  1854, 
he  introduced  a  bill  providing  for  the  organizing  of  Kansas 
and  Nebraska,  declaring  that  the  Missouri  Compromise  was 
inoperative,  and  leaving  the  question  of  slavery  to  the  voters 
of  the  region. 

Instantly  the  whole  country  was  in  a  blaze  of  excitement. 


THE  STATESMAN  273 

The  Constitution  and  the  Compromises  of  1820  and  1850  had 
settled  the  status  of  slavery  for  every  square  foot  on  American 
soil;  right  or  wrong,  the  settlement  was  made.  It  was  a  gross 
blunder  to  open  up  the  question  again.  Should  the  Bill  be 
passed  it  would  take  a  great  mass  of  territory  out  of  the  settle- 
ment and  fling  it  into  the  arena  as  a  prize  to  be  contested  for 
by  the  section;  a  struggle  which  would  be  marked  by  intense 
bitterness  of  feeling,  and  which  would  tend  to  use  force  as  its 
arbiter. 

There  followed  four  months  of  fierce  controversy  in  Con- 
gress during  which  the  North,  sadly  divided  in  opposition,  pro- 
tested and  appealed  in  vain.  At  length,  on  the  8th  of  May, 
1854,  amidst  the  most  intense  excitement,  the  Bill  was  passed. 
It  was  perhaps  the  most  momentous  Act  of  Legislation  in 
American  history;  and  one  fraught  with  direst  consequences. 

Lincoln  in  Springfield  had  been  watching  the  progress  of 
events  with  great  attentiveness.  He  could  not  believe  that  the 
Bill  would  be  passed.  When  at  last  the  measure  had  become  a 
law  he  was  dumbfounded.  The  news  reached  him  when  he  was 
on  the  circuit.  Slowly  he  went  up  to  his  room  at  the  tavern, 
which  he  shared  with  several  other  lawyers. 

"Well,  they've  done  it,"  he  exclaimed,  sinking  into  a  chair 
before  the  fire.  The  May  evening  seemed  suddenly  cold. 
"They've  repealed  the  Missouri  Compromise.  And  now  what  is 
to  come?  A  struggle  for  Kansas  and  Nebraska,  with  bloodshed, 
perhaps.  Slavery  triumphant  there,  every  Free  State  may  be 
flung  open  to  the  institution.  In  time  the  repudiation  of  the 
Constitution  will  follow.  What  next?"  He  rose  and  paced  the 
floor  in  great  excitement.  "Why,  Billy,"  he  cried  turning  to 
Herndon  who  was  present,  "we  heard  Douglas  in  Springfield 
declare  that  the  Missouri  Compromise  had  'an  origin  akin  to 


274  LINCOLN 

the  Constitution;  that  it  had  become  canonized  in  the  hearts 
of  the  American  people  as  a  sacred  thing  which  no  ruthless 
hand  would  ever  be  reckless  enough  to  disturb.'  You  remember 
that  speech;  don't  you?  It  was  five  years  ago." 

"Yes;  I  remember  it,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  returned  Herndon  who 
was  almost  as  badly  upset  as  his  partner.  "He  and  the  'Douglas 
Democrats,'  as  they  call  themselves,  are  intoxicated  with  the 
notion  that  'squatter  sovereignty'  will  hold  the  Northern  and 
Southern  Democrats  together,  while  it  will  divide  the  Whig 
party  to  such  an  extent  that  it  will  be  destroyed.  They  believe 
that  what  the  Democrats  will  lose  from  the  Northern  branch 
of  the  party  will  be  more  than  made  up  by  the  recruits  from 
the  Southern  Whigs.  If  this  becomes  the  case  then  Douglas 
will  easily  be  the  nominee  of  the  Democrats  for  the  Presidency 
in  '56." 

"I  know  he  has  the  itch  to  be  President,  and  that  without  the 
vote  of  the  South  he  cannot  realize  that  ambition,"  said  Lin- 
coln. "This  very  ingenious  plan  for  the  extension  of  slavery  is 
a  sop  to  the  South.  Oh,  that  Clay  or  Webster  had  been  alive 
to  combat  it!  But  they  are  gone." 

And  so  he  talked,  spending  the  entire  evening  discussing  the 
repeal,  and  what  it  meant  to  the  country.  The  others  went  to 
bed  at  length,  but  Lincoln  sat  by  the  fire  thinking.  All  night 
he  sat  there.  Did  some  vision  of  what  the  future  would  bring 
come  to  him,  the  far-sighted  man  to  whom  sometimes  it 
seemed  as  though  the  gift  of  prophecy  had  been  vouchsafed? 
They  found  him  sitting  there  in  the  morning.  As  though  the 
conversation  had  not  been  interrupted  Lincoln  said, 

"I  tell  you,  this  country  cannot  continue  to  exist  half-slave 
and  half-free.  We  must  stand  together.  All  who  are  against  the 


THE  STATESMAN  275 

Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  must  stand  together  if  we  hope  to  repeal 
this  iniquitous  measure." 

One  of  the  first  results  of  the  Act  was  to  throw  the  parties 
into  chaos.  There  were  Democrats  against  the  measure;  Whigs 
for  it.  Many  men  in  the  North  were  forced  to  take  position 
against  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  without  a  party  organiza- 
tion at  all,  merely  calling  themselves  Anti-Nebraska  men. 

It  was  a  year  when  not  only  members  to  the  Legislature 
were  to  be  elected,  but  Congressmen  also.  Political  excitement 
ran  high,  not  alone  in  Illinois,  but  in  every  district  of  the  entire 
country. 

Since  his  term  in  Congress  Lincoln  had  taken  little  part  in 
politics,  though  he  had  kept  thoroughly  in  touch  with  affairs  of 
State.  Now,  however,  roused  by  the  violation  of  the  plighted 
faith  of  a  generation,  he  took  to  the  stump  again  as  local  pol- 
itics became  active.  His  Whig  friends  were  delighted  with  his 
reappearance  in  active  discussion.  "Of  old  they  knew  his  pe- 
culiar hold  upon  the  people  and  his  party,  and  he  was  sent  for 
in  all  directions  to  speak."  When  he  went,  however,  he  dis- 
tinctly announced  that  he  did  not  purpose  to  take  up  his  time 
with  personal  controversy.  His  intentions  were  to  discuss  the 
principles  of  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill. 

But  those  who  came  to  be  entertained  with  anecdotes,  jokes, 
and  stories  as  of  yore  found  a  new  Lincoln.  A  Lincoln  imbued 
with  an  unwonted  seriousness,  an  earnest  eloquence,  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  institutions  of  the  country,  and  the  history  of  gov- 
ernment that  held  them  spell-bound.  A  Lincoln  who  chose  hu- 
man rights  for  his  subject  and  went  down  to  bedrock  for  his 
facts,  a  subject  that  "furnished  material  for  the  inborn  gifts 
of  the  speaker,  his  intuitive  logic,  his  impulsive  patriotism,  his 


276  LINCOLN 

pure  and  poetical  conception  of  local  and  moral  justice."  1 
Congress  adjourned  early  in  August,  but  it  was  not  until 
the  first  week  in  September  that  Douglas  returned  to  his  home 
city  of  Chicago.  This  was  an  anti-slavery  city,  and  so  great  was 
the  storm  of  indignation  that  greeted  his  appearance  that  he 
was  not  permitted  to  speak  in  vindication  of  himself.  He  began 
to  realize  that  he  had  committed  a  political  blunder,  and  vainly 
tried  to  change  the  popular  judgment.  A  few  days  of  rest 
served  to  restore  his  confidence,  and  he  began  a  tour  of  speech- 
making  southward  through  the  State.  At  these  meetings  he 
was  accorded  a  respectful  hearing,  and  as  he  neared  central 
Illinois  his  reception  became  more  enthusiastic  for  the  central 
and  southern  parts  of  the  State  were  Southern  in  sentiment 
and  kinship.  The  first  of  October  found  him  at  Springfield 
where  the  State  Agricultural  Fair  was  in  progress. 

The  Fair  was  an  occasion  of  great  interest.  From  every 
corner  of  the  State  the  people  came,  drawn  by  the  attractions 
set  forth  for  their  entertainment.  But  this  year,  added  to  glam- 
our of  horse-racing,  cattle  and  stock  shows,  booths,  and  side- 
shows, there  was  to  be  a  political  tournament  of  speech-making 
at  which  Stephen  A.  Douglas  was  to  speak  in  justification  of 
his  course  and  in  defense  of  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill.  This 
was  expected  to  be  the  event  of  the  occasion.  Douglas  was  the 
leader  of  his  party  in  Illinois,  and  was  known  to  the  whole 
nation.  He  had  been  in  politics  for  more  than  twenty  years, 
had  had  a  remarkably  successful  career,  and  at  the  last  Presi- 
dential election  had  come  within  a  few  votes  of  being  his  party's 
nominee  for  that  high  office.  Naturally,  therefore,  lie  was  con- 
sidered the  big  drawing  card  of  the  speech-making.  Naturally, 
also,  he  was  met  on  his  entrance  into  the  little  capital  by  a 

i  N'icolay   and   Hay. 


THE  STATESMAN  277 

delegation  of  leading  citizens  of  the  State  with  a  band  of  fifes 
and  drums,  and  escorted  to  the  State  House  where,  on  account 
of  inclement  weather,  the  speaking  was  to  take  place. 

By  common  consent  all  eyes  were  turned  to  Lincoln  as  the 
speaker  best  qualified  to  answer  him.  .Lincoln  knew  that  this 
was  no  light  task.  Douglas  was  possessed  of  real  ability.  "In 
many  qualities  of  intellect  he  was  truly  the  'Little  Giant'  which 
popular  fancy  had  named  him."  He  was  also  possessed  of  a 
winning  manner,  a  sonorous  voice,  and  was  adept  in  evasion, 
adroit  and  aggressive.  Besides,  his  long  official  career  gave  to 
his  utterances  the  stamp  and  glitter  of  oracular  statesmanship. 
Lincoln  realized  that  he  was  a  formidable  antagonist. 

But  Lincoln  had  measured  strength  with  him  before:  at  the 
Bar,  in  the  Legislature,  and  on  the  stump.  He  knew  all  of  his 
strong  points  as  well  as  his  weak  ones,  and  was  not  at  all  averse 
to  being  pitted  against  the  author  of  the  raging  storm  of 
parties. 

The  Representatives'  Hall  in  the  State  House  was  densely 
packed,  on  that  first  day  of  October,  1854.  There  were  many 
leading  men  from  all  parts  of  the  State;  many  honest  voters 
who  were  still  undecided  in  their  minds  about  the  grave 
political  questions  of  the  day.  It  was  an  audience  whose 
enjoyment  of  the  occasion  was  tempered  by  seriousness  and 
anxiety.  One  that  felt  that  a  crisis  in  national  affairs  por- 
tended. 

In  his  opening  remarks  Douglas  said:  "I  will  mention,  that 
it  is  understood  by  some  gentlemen  that  Mr.  Lincoln,  of  this 
city,  is  expected  to  answer  me.  I  wish  that  he  would  step  for- 
ward and  let  us  arrange  some  plan  upon  which  to  carry  out 
this  discussion." 

Lincoln  was  not  present  at  the  moment,  and  the  arrange- 


278  LINCOLN 

ments  were  made  later.  Douglas  then  entered  into  an  exposi- 
tion and  defense  of  his  principles  and  policy  with  the  bearing 
of  a  man  who  has  already  conquered.  He  set  forth  the  doctrines 
of  his  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  with  such  cleverness  that  it  would 
deceive  all  but  thinking  men  and  logicians  into  believing  that 
it  was  the  panacea  it  pretended  to  be.  He  made  it  appear  that 
the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  was  in  the  interest  of 
the  whole  people  and  not  in  the  interest  of  slavery.  The  speech 
was  ingenious,  plausible,  and  as  effective  as  it  could  have  been 
in  the  hands  of  any  living  man. 

The  speech  was  four  hours  long,  and  men  left  the  Hall,  won- 
dering sadly  at  Lincoln's  temerity  in  attempting  to  reply  to  it. 
On  the  next  day,  at  the  same  place,  and  to  the  same  dense  au- 
dience, Lincoln  spoke. 

And  he  spoke  as  he  had  never  spoken  before.  His  whole 
heart  was  in  his  words.  He  believed  that  a  foul  wrong  had 
been  done  by  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise,  and 
his  being  was  stirred  to  the  utmost.  He  quivered  with  feel- 
ing and  emotion.  His  deep-set  gray  eyes  flashed  flame-like 
with  the  passion  that  filled  him.  He  was  an  epic  giant  as  he 
exposed  the  fallacies  of  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill.  So  con- 
vincing, so  powerful  in  its  logic  and  so  tremendous  in  its  array 
of  facts  was  his  argument  that  it  moved  even  his  opponents 
to  admiration. 

Douglas  had  dwelt  long  upon  his  great  panacea  for  the 
slavery  trouble  that  the  people  of  the  new  territories  should 
decide  for  themselves,  subject  to  the  Constitution,  whether  they 
should  have  slavery  or  not,  and  also  decide  for  themselves  all 
other  questions  under  the  Constitution;  that  it  was  an  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  right  of  popular  sovereignty.  He  insisted 
that  it  was  an  insult  to  the  emigrants  to  Kansas  and  Nebraska 


THE  STATESMAN  279 

to  intimate  that  the}r  were  not  able  to  govern  themselves,  vot- 
ing slavery  in,  or  out,  as  they  chose. 

Replying  to  this  Lincoln  said: 

"My  distinguished  friend  says  it  is  an  insult  to  the  emigrants 
to  Kansas  and  Nebraska  to  suppose  they  are  not  able  to  govern 
themselves.  We  must  not  slur  over  an  argument  of  this  kind 
because  it  happens  to  tickle  the  ear.  It  must  be  met  and  an- 
swered. I  admit  that  the  emigrant  to  Kansas  and  Nebraska  is 
able  to  govern  himself;  but" — rising  to  his  full  height — "I 
deny  his  right  to  govern  any  other  person  without  that  person's 
consent." 

The  crowd  broke  into  tumultuous  applause.  It  was  the  vital 
point  of  the  whole  matter,  and  showed  the  difference  between 
him  and  Douglas.  They  understood  it,  and  saw  through  the 
iniquity  of  "popular  sovereignty,"  and  the  Kansas-Nebraska 
Bill.  Again  and  again  they  huzzaed  to  show  their  apprecia- 
tion of  the  clearness  and  thoroughness  of  the  speaker. 

"At  the  conclusion  of  the  speech,  every  man  felt  that  it  was 
unanswerable — that  no  human  power  could  overthrow  it,  or 
trample  it  underfoot,"  reported  the  Springfield  "Journal." 
"The  long  and  repeated  applause  evinced  the  feelings  of  the 
crowd,  and  gave  token  of  universal  assent  to  Lincoln's  whole 
argument;  and  every  man  present  did  homage  to  the  man  who 
took  captive  the  heart,  and  broke  like  a  sun  over  the  under- 
standing." 

At  the  close  of  the  speech  Douglas  hastily  took  the  platform 
to  reply,  which  was  his  privilege.  He  was  astonished,  angry, 
disconcerted  at  the  display  of  oratorical  power  that  Lincoln 
had  exhibited.  He  began  by  saying  that  he  had  been  abused. 
Then,  discerning  a  hostile  movement  among  the  crowd,  he 
added,  "but  in  a  perfectly  courteous  manner."  He  then  at- 


280  LINCOLN 

tempted  to  make  some  reply  to  Lincoln's  masterly  speech,  but 
after  a  few  remarks,  concluded  by  saying  that  he  would  con- 
tinue his  address  in  the  evening.  But  when  evening  came  he 
was  not  present,  and  the  remarks  promised  were  never  made. 

Previous  to  this  Lincoln  had  been  the  leading  man  of  his 
district,  and  among  the  leading  men  of  the  State.  This  speech 
made  him  the  leader  of  the  State.  Urgent  calls  came  to  him  to 
speak  at  all  places  where  Douglas  was  advertised  to  speak, 
and,  accordingly,  they  once  more  met  in  debate  at  Peoria. 
Douglas  opened  the  debate,  but  it  was  noticeable  that  he  had 
lost  something  of  his  assurance.  His  manner  was  much  modi- 
fied. Perhaps  he  had  lost  confidence  in  his  own  position. 

Lincoln's  triumph  here  was  even  more  marked  than  it  had 
been  at  Springfield.  The  harvest  of  the  fallow  years  was  be- 
ginning, and  no  man  foresaw  the  greatness  and  fullness 
thereof.  Some  of  his  utterances  were  like  the  clarion  call  of  a 
trumpet : 

"The  doctrine  of  self-government  is  right — absolutely  and 
eternally  right, — but  it  has  no  just  application  as  here  at- 
tempted. Or  perhaps  I  should  rather  say  that  whether  it  has 
such  just  application,  depends  upon  whether  the  Negro  is  not, 
or  is,  a  man.  If  he  is  not  a  man,  in  that  case  he  who  is  a  man 
may  as  a  matter  of  self-government  do  just  what  he  pleases 
with  him.  But  if  the  Negro  is  a  man,  is  it  not  to  that  extent  a 
total  destruction  of  self-government  to  say  that  he  too  shall 
not  govern  himself?  When  the  White  man  governs  himself, 
that  is  self-government;  but  when  he  governs  himself  and  also 
governs  another  man,  that  is  more  than  self-government — that 
is  despotism.  .  .  . 

"What  I  do  say  is,  that  no  man  is  good  enough  to  govern 
another  man  without  that  other's  consent.  .  .  ." 


THE  STATESMAN  281 

At  the  close  of  this  speech  Douglas  did  not  even  try  to  re- 
ply to  it. 

Owing  largely  to  Lincoln's  efforts  a  political  revolution 
swept  the  State,  and  for  the  first  time  since  the  Democratic 
party  was  organized  the  Legislature  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
opposition;  this  opposition  being  made  up  of  Whigs,  Aboli- 
tionists, and  Anti-Nebraska  Democrats.  This  new  Legislature 
had  the  responsibility  of  choosing  a  United  States  Senator,  as 
successor  to  James  Shields,  then  a  Senator  from  Illinois,  a 
Democratic  colleague  with  Douglas.  Shields  was  a  candidate 
for  re-election,  but  the  fierce  excitement  that  swept  the  country 
had  endangered  his  chances. 

The  Legislature  met  in  joint  ballot,  the  8th  of  February, 
1855,  and  the  candidates  of  the  several  factions  were  put  in 
nomination.  Could  the  opposition  have  united  they  could  easily 
have  beaten  the  Democrats,  but  their  interests  seemed  too  an- 
tagonistic to  do  so,  and  each  had  its  own  candidate.  Among 
the  Whigs  Lincoln,  whose  speeches  had  done  so  much  to  win 
the  election,  was  the  natural  candidate.  The  Anti-Nebraska 
Democrats  brought  forward  Lyman  Trumbull,  an  able  law- 
yer and  an  accomplished  debater,  as  their  candidate,  and 
Shields  was  that  of  the  Democrats. 

After  a  number  of  undecisive  ballots  had  been  taken  it  was 
evident  that  the  opposition  would  have  to  harmonize  in  some 
way  in  order  to  beat  the  great  body  of  Douglas  Democrats, 
for  the  latter  had  dropped  Shields  and  adopted  Governor  Joel 
Mattison  who  was  a  much  stronger  man.  Should  the  supporters 
of  Lincoln  and  Trumbull  drop  one  or  the  other  and  unite  their 
forces  it  was  possible  to  elect  one  of  these  gentlemen. 

Lincoln  ardently  desired  the  nomination,  for  he  felt  that  h& 
might  be  able  to  accomplish  great  things  for  freedom,  but  he 


282  LINCOLN 

saw  that  there  was  actual  danger  of  the  Democrats  electing 
their  candidate.  At  this  juncture  he  begged  his  friends  to  leave 
him,  and  go  for  Mr.  Trumbull.  It  was  long  before  he  could 
prevail  upon  them  to  do  so.  It  seemed  like  a  surrender  of  the 
Whig  party.  At  length,  however,  they  yielded  to  his  wishes, 
though  with  the  sorrow  of  men  assisting  at  the  funeral  of  a 
friend.  The  consequence  was  the  election  of  Lyman  Trumbull 
as  Senator,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  Democrats  who 
had  not  believed  it  possible  for  the  opposition  to  unite. 

Lincoln's  generosity  was  not  lessened  by  the  fact  that  Judge 
Trumbull  had  never  been  his  "political  friend,  but  his  op- 
ponent, and  sometimes  his  unfriendly  critic." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 

THE   GATHERING   STORM 

The  days  came  and  went  bringing  with  them  a  widening  of 
the  breach  between  the  North  and  the  South.  The  country 
seethed  with  excitement  as  the  natural  consequence  of  the 
Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  was  manifested  in  Kansas.  Immigra- 
tion to  that  territory  was  directed  by  both  anti-slavery  and 
pro-slavery  parties,  each  determined  to  control  the  proposed 
State  Constitution.  Then  began  a  struggle  that  passed  into  a 
real  civil  war,  the  two  factions  mustering  considerable  forces, 
fighting  battles,  capturing  towns,  and  paroling  prisoners. 
"Bleeding  Kansas"  became  a  phrase  in  almost  every  one's 
mouth.  Border  ruffians  took  possession  of  the  polls,  and  at- 
tempted to  drive  out  the  emigrants  who  had  been  assisted  to 
come  into  the  country  by  the  Abolitionists.  The  result  of  the 
legislation  on  its  face  made  Kansas  a  slave  State,  but  a  great 
part  of  the  people  refused  to  accept  this  result;  and  a  conven- 
tion was  held  at  Topeka  which  resolved  that  Kansas  should  be 
free  even  if  the  law  formed  by  the  Legislature  should  have  to 
be  "resisted  to  a  bloody  issue." 

Statesmen  both  in  the  North  and  in  the  South  were  troubled 
over  existing  conditions,  and  feared  the  outcome.  Unscrupu- 

283 


284  LINCOLN 

lous  politicians  had  no  such  fears,  and  took  advantage  of  the 
confusion  in  State  affairs  to  further  their  own  purposes. 

In  the  heat  of  the  struggle  in  Kansas  came  the  Presidential 
election  of  185G.  It  was  a  period  of  transition  in  politics.  The 
Whig  party  was  almost  annihilated;  the  Democratic  party 
in  the  North  was  divided,  while  the  opposition  party,  not  yet 
united  but  fighting  in  factions  against  the  Kansas-Nebraska 
Bill,  only  acknowledged  political  affinity  under  the  general 
term  of  "Anti-Nebraska"  party. 

By  the  opening  of  1856,  however,  it  became  apparent  to  ob- 
serving men  that  the  anti-Nebraska  struggle  was  not  a  mere 
temporary  excitement,  but  a  deep  and  abiding  issue,  involving 
in  the  fate  of  slavery  the  fate  of  the  nation.  To  meet  the  exi- 
gency successfully  a  party  name  and  party  machinery  were 
necessary,  and  steps  were  taken  to  fuse  the  various  elements 
in  order  that  a  National  party  might  be  formed.  Already  in 
several  of  the  Northern  States  the  party  for  freedom  had  or- 
ganized, fusing  the  components  parts  under  the  name  of  "Re- 
publican Party." 

The  name  "Republican"  was  the  original  title  of  the  Demo- 
cratic party,  or  rather  it  was  "Democratic-Republican,"  but 
the  latter  had  been  gradually  dropped.  The  name  had  always 
been  liked  in  the  North,  and  it  had  never  passed  out  of  the 
remembrance  of  the  people,  so  it  was  seized  upon  with  avidity. 
All  over  the  North  the  States  began  to  organize  the  opposition 
party  under  the  new  name. 

On  Washington's  birthday,  February  22nd,  1856,  the  op- 
position party  being  still  unorganized  in  Illinois,  some  fifteen 
editors  met  for  conference  at  Decatur,  and  issued  a  call  for  a 
delegate  State  Convention  of  the  "Anti-Nebraska"  men  to 
meet  at  Bloomington  on  the  29th  of  May  for  the  purpose  of 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  285 

effecting  an  organization.  Lincoln  was  present  as  guest  of 
honor. 

As  late  as  August,  1856,  he  still  considered  himself  a  Whig, 
and  wrote  to  his  friend  Speed,  who  had  written  asking  how  he 
stood : 

"I  think  I  am  a  Whig;  but  others  say  that  there  are  no 
Whigs,  and  that  I  am  an  Abolitionist.  That  is  a  disputed  point. 
I  now  do  no  more  than  oppose  the  extension  of  slavery." 

But  Lincoln  was  thinking.  He  loved  the  Whig  party,  and 
its  associations  were  very  dear  to  him.  It  had  been  a  national 
party,  powerful  because  of  its  adherents  in  the  South.  But  as 
a  national  party  it  no  longer  existed.  Its  Southern  portion  had 
been  severed  from  it  by  the  paramount  issue  of  slavery.  The 
tenets  of  the  opposition  were  confined  almost  exclusively  to 
the  checking  of  the  further  extension  of  the  institution  which 
meant  that  the  new  party  would  be  wholly  of  the  North,  and 
therefore  sectional.  He  was  a  Southerner  himself,  and  it  was 
no  light  thing  to  array  himself  against  his  own  people.  But  he 
believed  slavery  to  be  wrong;  therefore,  his  logical  place  was 
with  those  who  opposed  it.  He  went  with  the  new  party. 

The  Bloomington  Convention  came  together  according  to 
call  on  the  29th  of  May.  "It  was  an  earnest  and  determined 
council  of  five  or  six  hundred  cool,  sagacious,  independent 
thinkers,  led  and  directed  by  the  first  minds  of  the  State," 
chief  among  whom  was  Abraham  Lincoln.  It  conducted  its 
work  with  earnestness  and  dignity.  It  boldly  adopted  the 
Republican  name,  formulated  the  Republican  creed,  nomi- 
nated a  State  ticket,  and  appointed  delegates  to  the  coming 
national  convention. 

It  was  a  meeting  full  of  enthusiasm.  There  were  many  re- 
cent happenings  that  served  to  excite  such  feeling.  The  Con- 


286  LINCOLN 

gressional  debates  at  Washington  and  the  civil  war  in  Kansas 
were  each  at  a  culmination  of  passion  and  incident.  Within  ten 
days  Sumner  had  been  struck  down  in  the  Senate,  and  the 
town  of  Lawrence  sacked  by  a  guerilla  posse.  It  was  a  time 
that  stirred  men's  passions.  There  had  been  many  eloquent 
speeches,  eagerly  listened  to  and  applauded,  but  every  one 
wished  to  hear  Lincoln. 

A  silence  fell  upon  the  assembly  as  his  tall  form  appeared 
upon  the  platform.  He  stood  for  a  moment  before  beginning 
to  speak,  visibly  impressed  by  the  significance  of  the  occasion. 
The  spell  of  the  hour  was  upon  him.  The  old  Whig  party  had 
ignored  the  question  of  slavery,  and  put  bonds  of  silence  upon 
the  lips  of  its  speakers.  Now  he  was  free,  free  to  speak  as  he 
wished,  and  the  smothered  flame  of  his  spirit  leaped  into  his 
face.  His  eyes  blazed,  and  he  seemed  to  grow  taller  as  he  thun- 
dered : 

"Let  us  use  ballots,  not  bullets,  against  the  weapons  of 
violence,  which  are  those  of  kingcraft.  .  .  .  Kansas  shall  be 
free.  .  .  .  We  won't  go  out  of  the  Union,  and  you  shan't! 
.  .  .  The  stars  in  their  courses,  aye,  an  invisible  power,  greater 
than  the  puny  efforts  of  men,  will  fight  for  us.  .  .  .  Our 
moderation  and  forbearance  will  stand  us  in  good  stead  when, 
if  ever,  we  must  make  an  appeal  to  battle  and  to  the  God  of 
hosts." 

Never  had  he  spoken  in  so  impassioned  a  manner,  and  the 
fjudience  was  taken  up  and  swept  away.  "Again  and  again, 
during  the  progress  of  the  delivery  of  the  speech,  they  sprang 
to  their  feet  and  upon  the  benches,"  1  shouting  and  waving 
their  hats,  completely  electrified. 

i  Scripps. 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  287 

He  closed  with  a  thrilling  appeal  to  the  people  to  join  the 
Republican  standard,  to 

"Come  as  the  winds  come,  when  forests  are  rended; 
Come  as  the  waves  come,  when  navies  are  stranded." 

The  effect  was  irresistible;  the  audience  was  stampeded. 
When  something  like  calm  was  restored  the  reporters  began 
to  look  at  each  other  sheepishly.  Not  one  of  them  had  taken  a 
note.  They  had  forgotten  to  report. 

The  Republican  party  was  born.  But  if  things  had  gone  so 
far  that  the  North  and  the  South  were  to  be  arrayed  against 
each  other  in  two  great  political  parties,  it  was  evident  that 
the  end  was  near.  The  shadow  of  the  gathering  storm  was 
creeping  ominously  over  the  land. 

At  the  National  Convention  of  the  new  party,  which  met  at 
Philadelphia,  June  17th,  John  Charles  Fremont,  of  California, 
was  nominated  for  President,  and  William  L.  Dayton,  of  New 
Jersey,  for  Vice-President.  As  an  indication  of  his  growing 
fame  Lincoln  received  some  votes  for  the  Vice-Presidency. 

In  the  meantime,  on  June  2nd,  the  Democrats  had  met  at 
Cincinnati,  and  had  nominated  James  Buchanan,  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, for  President,  and  John  C.  Breckinridge,  of  Kentucky, 
for  Vice-President.  Stephen  A.  Douglas  was  logically  the  can- 
didate, but  by  one  of  those  queer  twists  that  so  often  deter- 
mines the  choice  in  political  conventions,  Buchanan  was  made 
the  nominee. 

Lincoln  was  Presidential  Elector  for  the  Republicans  in 
Illinois,  which  involved  a  laborious  canvass  of  speech-making 
over  the  State.  He  spent  the  entire  summer  stumping  the 
State  from  one  end  to  the  other.  During  this  campaign,  while 


288  LINCOLN 

he  was  speaking  at  Charleston,  Coles  County,  a  man  in  the 
audience  called  out  to  him : 

"Mr.  Lincoln,  is  it  true  that  you  entered  this  State  barefoot, 
driving  a  yoke  of  oxen?" 

Lincoln  paused  for  an  instant,  as  if  at  a  loss  whether  to 
take  notice  of  a  question  so  evidently  malicious,  and  then  said: 

"Yes;  and  I  presume  that  there  are  at  least  a  dozen  men  in 
the  crowd,  any  one  of  whom  is  more  respectable  than  my  ques- 
tioner, who  can  prove  that  I  did;  if  it  is  needful  to  the  case 
in  hand." 

But  the  question  seemed  to  inspire  him,  and  he  described 
with  glowing  eloquence  what  free  institutions  had  done  for 
him,  and  what  they  would  do  for  any  man,  and  showed  how 
slavery  debased  the  white  man,  and  asked  if  it  were  not  natural 
that  he  should  hate  it. 

In  September,  in  the  midst  of  the  campaign,  he  received 
a  most  pathetic  letter  from  Hannah  Armstrong,  begging  him 
to  come  to  the  aid  of  her  son,  Duff  Armstrong,  who  was  ac- 
cused of  killing  a  man.  Hannah,  it  will  be  remembered,  was 
the  wife  of  Jack  Armstrong,  the  champion  of  the  "Clary's 
Grove  Boys,"  with  whom  Lincoln  had  fought  in  his  early  days 
at  Salem.  They  had  always  been  friends  after  that,  and  Lin- 
coln had  stayed  at  Jack's  cabin  sometimes  for  several  weeks 
at  a  time,  and  Hannah  had  performed  many  womanly  services 
for  the  impecunious  young  man.  It  was  she  who  foxed  a 
couple  of  buckskins  on  his  breeches  to  keep  the  briers  from 
tearing  them  while  he  was  surveying. 

Jack  Armstrong  had  died  in  the  early  part  of  1850,  leaving 
his  wife  to  care  for  a  large  family.  The  farm  was  only  a  forty- 
acre  tract,  and  this  she  tended  with  the  aid  of  her  two  boys. 
Camp-meetings  were  held  at  this  time  all  over  the  country,  and 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  289 

it  was  the  custom  of  the  rowdy  element  to  attend.  They  would 
pitch  their  headquarters  as  near  the  camp  as  the  law  would 
allow,  and  with  their  kegs  of  whiskey,  start  up  and  make  the 
day  and  night  hideous  with  their  revelry. 

Duff  Armstrong  had  been  among  just  such  a  crowd  of  row- 
dies who  had  pitched  their  tent  in  a  deep  ravine  just  outside 
the  limits  allowed  by  the  law  of  a  camp-meeting,  being  held  on 
Salt  Creek.  They  carried  things  with  a  high  hand,  the  climax 
being  reached  on  Sunday  evening  when  the  crowd  began  fight- 
ing among  themselves  with  fists,  clubs,  rocks,  or  anything  else 
they  could  find.  In  the  melee  a  man  named  Medscar  was  killed; 
struck  down  by  a  blow  on  the  neck  with  a  neck-yoke.  Duff 
Armstrong  had  been  arrested,  charged  with  the  murder,  and 
thrown  into  prison. 

Lincoln  had  never  forgotten  Hannah's  kindness  to  him; 
so  now,  after  reading  the  letter  of  the  almost  distracted  mother, 
in  which  she  offered  to  give  him  her  forty  acres  as  his  fee,  he 
wrote  immediately  that  he  would  come  to  the  boy's  aid.  But, 
in  consideration  of  her  kindness  to  him  when  he  was  a  youth, 
he  would  not  charge  her  a  cent.  Lincoln  never  forgot  a  kind- 
ness. He  never  forgot  his  friends,  nor  outgrew  their  friend- 
ship. 

Hannah  lived  fifteen  miles  south  of  Havana  to  which  place 
the  accused  youth  had  been  taken.  Lincoln  found  the  feeling 
in  Mason  County  where  the  murder  had  been  committed  too 
strong  to  permit  of  fair  treatment,  so  his  first  act  was  to  pro- 
cure a  change  of  venue  to  Beardstown. 

When  the  trial  came  on,  the  case  looked  very  hopeless  to 
all  but  Lincoln  who  had  assured  himself  of  the  boy's  innocence. 
There  was  a  large  army  of  witnesses ;  their  evidence  was  all  the 
same :  they  all  swore  that  they  had  seen  Armstrong  strike  Med- 


290  LINCOLN 

scar  on  the  back  of  the  neck  with  a  neck-yoke  at  10  o'clock 
P.  m.,  at  a  camp-meeting  on  a  certain  night  in  September,  in 
the  year  1856.  The  witnesses  all  agreed  on  the  hour,  and  when 
asked  how  they  saw  it  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  they  all  swore 
that  the  moon  was  shining  as  bright  as  day. 

Lincoln  only  asked  each  witness  what  time  of  night  the  mur- 
der was  committed  and  had  them  all  say  that  the  moon  was 
shining  as  bright  as  day.  The  trial  was  brought  to  a  close.  The 
prosecutors  thought  they  had  a  clear  case,  and  did  not  make 
much  of  a  plea.  Now  came  Lincoln's  turn.  He  arose,  and  be- 
gan to  review  the  evidence  in  very  slow  and  measured  terms. 
He  called  the  witnesses  by  their  given  names;  he  pointed  his 
long  bony  finger  at  John  and  James  and  Bill  and  Jack  and 
Sam,  and  the  rest  of  them,  and  said : 

"These  witnesses  have  all  agreed  in  their  evidence  that  they 
saw  the  murder  committed  at  ten  o'clock  p.  m.,  and  that  the 
moon  was  shining  as  bright  as  day."  He  paused  a  moment,  and 
then  rising  to  his  full  height,  he  exclaimed:  "These  witnesses 
have  sworn  falsely  and  I  can  prove  it." 

He  then  produced  an  almanac,  in  which  it  was  shown  that 
the  moon  did  not  rise  that  night  until  10:  30,  which  settled  the 
time.  Then  he  went  farther  and  showed  that  the  murder  was 
committed  in  a  deep  ravine  with  a  bluff  east  of  it  which  was 
fifty  feet  high;  further,  there  was  a  thick  growth  of  timber  on 
the  bluff  that  was  fifty  feet  higher,  and  that  it  would  have  been 
twelve  or  one  o'clock  at  night  before  the  moon  could  have  pos- 
sibly thrown  any  light  in  the  ravine.  The  mass  of  evidence 
against  the  prisoner  faded  under  this  convincing  argument, 
and  every  one  in  the  crowded  court-room  was  certain  that  the 
boy  was  not  guilty.  Lincoln  concluded  by  making  an  appeal  to 
the  Jury  which  melted  every  one  to  tears.  The  Jury  were  out 


THE  GATHERING  STORM  291 

but  half  an  hour,  and  when  they  returned  their  verdict  was 
"Not  guilty."  Hannah  fainted  in  the  arms  of  her  son,  who  tried 
stammeringly  to  thank  Lincoln  for  what  he  had  done.  Lincoln 
parted  with  the  admonition: 

"Take  this  as  a  warning,  Duff,  and  keep  out  of  bad  com- 
pany. Go  home  now,  and  be  a  good  boy." 

The  campaign  resulted  in  the  election  of  Buchanan  to  the 
Presidency.  In  Illinois  the  contest  ended  in  a  partial  victory 
for  the  Republicans,  the  candidate  for  governor  on  their  ticket, 
with  some  of  the  State  officers,  being  elected.  But  this  half 
triumph  was  a  cause  for  rejoicing  among  the  members  of  the 
new  party.  If  they  could  do  so  much  when  they  had  just  or- 
ganized what  might  they  not  be  able  to  accomplish  at  the  next 
election  ? 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 


A  BATTLE  OF  GIANTS 


While  Lincoln  still  took  charge  of  important  cases  in  court, 
and  practiced  his  profession  at  intervals,  his  time  for  the 
greater  part  was  taken  up  with  politics.  Indeed,  it  could 
scarcely  be  otherwise  as  the  great  crisis  in  national  affairs 
drew  closer. 

The  eyes  of  the  nation  centred  upon  Kansas  where  the 
struggle  between  the  pro-slavery  and  the  free  State  men  was 
still  going  on.  It  was  the  epitome  of  the  great  contest  to  come, 
and  men  watched  with  anxious  eyes  its  outcome.  The  pro- 
slavery  men  had  succeeded  in  electing  a  Legislature  which  as- 
sembled at  Lecompton  where  a  State  constitution  was  framed, 
preparatory  to  asking  admission  into  the  Union.  In  this  elec- 
tion the  free  State  men  took  no  part,  claiming  that  this  Legis- 
lature had  no  legal  authority.  There  were  but  two  thousand 
votes  cast  at  Lecompton  while  the  legal  voters  numbered  more 
than  ten  thousand.  These  latter  called  a  mass-meeting  of  the 
actual  settlers,  elected  delegates  to  a  constitutional  conven- 
tion which  assembled  at  Topeka,  and  framed  a  constitution 
excluding  slavery  from  the  Territory.  Both  parties  sent  their 
constitutions  to  Washington  for  the  approval  of  Congress. 

292 


A  BATTLE  OF  GIANTS  293 

Robert  J.  Walker,  the  Governor  of  Kansas,  knowing  that  the 
Lecompton  constitution  was  fraudulent  as  an  exposition  of  the 
wishes  of  the  people  of  Kansas,  hastened  also  to  Washington 
to  protest  against  its  adoption,  but  before  he  could  reach  the 
Capitol  it  had  been  approved  by  President  Buchanan.  The 
free-State  officers,  acting  under  the  Topeka  constitution,  were 
declared  guilty  of  treason,  arrested,  and  lodged  in  jail;  while 
the  Topeka  Legislature  was  dispersed  by  the  regular  army  of 
the  United  States,  acting  under  orders  of  the  President. 

A  furor  swept  the  North  over  the  outrage,  and  agitation  of 
the  slavery  question  was  renewed  with  great  vigor.  Politicians 
became  known  as  Lecompton  or  anti-Lecompton  as  they  fa- 
vored or  did  not  favor  the  adoption  of  the  Lecompton  con- 
stitution. 

At  this  time  the  Senatorial  term  of  Stephen  A.  Douglas 
was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  he  wished  to  be  re-elected.  He  was 
a  shrewd  politician,  keenly  alive  to  the  political  revolution  that 
was  taking  place,  and  he  saw  that  the  injustice  to  which  the 
settlers  of  Kansas  were  subjected  was  driving  many  of  his  con- 
stituents into  the  ranks  of  the  Republican  party.  He  realized 
that,  as  the  originator  of  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  which  had 
made  this  state  of  things  possible,  he  would  be  held  responsible. 
Indeed,  his  seat  was  in  actual  danger.  To  be  consistent  he 
ought  to  support  the  Lecompton  constitution,  but  by  so  doing 
he  would  place  a  weighty  weapon  in  the  hands  of  the  Republi- 
cans to  wield  against  him.  He  was  an  astute  politician,  so  he 
stole  the  Republican  thunder.  Allying  himself  with  the  Re- 
publican members  in  the  Senate,  he  labored  side  by  side  with 
them,  in  the  session  of  1857  and  18.58,  against  the  adoption  of 
the  Lecompton  constitution.  It  is  but  just  to  say  that,  what- 
ever his  motive,  he  waged  such  a  gallant  fight  that  the  Le- 


294  LINCOLN 

compton  constitution  was  not  adopted,  though  by  so  acting  he 
incurred  the  enmity  of  the  administration  which  was  of  his  own 
party.  On  the  other  hand,  he  gained  the  sympathy  of  the 
Eastern  Republicans  to  such  an  extent  that  they  advised  the 
Republicans  of  Illinois  to  vote  to  return  him  to  the  Senate. 

The  Republicans  of  Illinois,  however,  felt  that  they  knew 
Mr.  Douglas  better  than  their  Eastern  friends,  and  refused 
their  advice.  Douglas  had  already  been  endorsed  by  the  Demo- 
cratic convention,  which  had  met  the  21st  of  April,  to  suc- 
ceed himself,  and  being  against  the  Lecompton  constitution 
was  the  only  tenet  that  he  held  in  common  with  the  Republi- 
cans. Therefore,  when  the  Republican  convention  met  at 
Springfield,  June  16th,  in  1858,  the  following  resolution  was 
brought  forward  and  adopted  unanimously: 

"The  Honorable  Abraham  Lincoln  is  our  first  and  only 
choice  for  United  States  Senator,  to  fill  the  vacancy  about  to 
be  created  by  the  expiration  of  Mr.  Douglas's  term  of  office." 

So  Lincoln  and  Douglas  were  again  to  be  pitted  against 
each  other.  It  seemed  Destiny  that  these  two  men  who  had  en- 
tered the  State  about  the  same  time,  both  penniless  youths, 
both  self-made  men,  both  achieving  eminence  by  sheer  force 
of  character  and  ability,  should  always  be  arrayed  against  each 
other.  The  present  time  was  to  prove  a  crisis  in  the  life  of  each. 

Lincoln  had  known  that  he  would  be  endorsed  by  his  party 
for  the  Senate,  and  had  prepared  his  speech  in  acknowledg- 
ment with  unusual  care.  It  had  been  decided  that  the  address 
should  be  delivered  to  the  members  of  the  convention  at  the 
State  House  in  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  he  was  en- 
dorsed. On  the  night  before  the  convention  Lincoln  invited  a 
dozen  or  so  of  his  friends  into  the  library  of  the  State  House  to 


A  BATTLE  OF  GIANTS  295 

read  his  speech  to  them.  The  expression  of  their  faces  changed 
to  dismay  as  Lincoln  read  the  opening  paragraph: 

"If  we  could  first  know  where  we  are,  and  whither  we  are 
tending,  we  could  better  judge  what  to  do,  and  how  to  do  it. 
We  are  now  far  into  the  fifth  year,  since  a  policy  was  initiated 
with  the  avowed  object  and  confident  promise  of  putting  an 
end  to  slavery  agitation.  Under  the  operation  of  that  policy, 
that  agitatioii  has  not  only  not  ceased,  but  has  constantly  aug- 
mented. In  my  opinion,  it  will  not  cease,  until  a  crisis  has  been 
reached  and  passed.  'A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot 
stand.'  I  believe  that  this  government  cannot  endure  per- 
manently half-slave  and  half-free.  I  do  not  expect  the  Union 
to  be  dissolved — I  do  not  expect  the  house  to  fall — but  I  do 
expect,  it  will  cease  to  be  divided.  It  will  become  all  one  thing, 
or  all  the  other.  Either  the  opponents  of  slavery  will  arrest  the 
further  spread  of  it,  and  place  it  where  the  public  mind  shall 
rest  in  the  belief  that  it  is  in  the  course  of  ultimate  extinction; 
or  its  advocates  shall  push  it  forward,  till  it  shall  have  become 
alike  lawful  in  all  the  States,  old  as  well  as  new, — North  as 
well  as  South." 

"That  is  true,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  spoke  one  of  his  friends  as  he 
paused.  "But  it  is  not  good  policy  to  give  utterance  to  such 
sentiments." 

"You  give  that  speech,"  said  another  slowly,  "and  it  will  be 
fatal  to  your  hopes  of  the  Senate." 

"It  may  permanently  destroy  your  political  prospects,"  com- 
mented a  third. 

"It  is  too  bold,"  spoke  a  fourth.  "It  is  almost  an  endorsement 
of  the  old  anti-slavery  doctrine  of  disunion.  It  is  not  discreet  to 
give  it  now." 


296  LINCOLN 

"But  it  is  the  truth,"  protested  Lincoln.  "It  is  the  truth 
and  the  nation  is  entitled  to  it.  'A  house  divided  against  itself 
cannot  stand.'  That  is  an  illustration  that  is  familiar  to  every 
one,  and  he  who  reads  may  run.  The  proposition  has  been  true 
for  six  thousand  years.  I  will  deliver  it  as  it  is  written.  I  would 
rather  be  defeated  with  these  expressions  in  my  speech  held 
up  and  discussed  before  the  people  than  be  victorious  without 
them.  I  shall  deliver  the  speech  as  it  is  written." 

And  he  did;  with  such  telling  effect  that  men  were  aroused 
to  deep  consideration  of  the  grave  political  issues  confronting 
the  nation. 

A  short  time  after  this  Douglas  came  on  from  Washington 
and  opened  his  campaign  by  making  a  speech  in  Chicago,  his 
home  city.  He  was  accorded  a  magnificent  reception  which 
gave  him  much  gratification.  In  this  speech  he  spoke  of  his 
work  against  the  Lecompton  fraud,  and  claimed  that  the  Re- 
publicans who  fought  by  his  side,  had  endorsed  his  "Popular 
Sovereignty"  doctrine — the  right  of  a  people  of  a  Territory  to 
form  their  own  constitution. 

He  spoke  of  Lincoln  at  length,  and  of  Lincoln's  speech  at 
Springfield,  taking  from  the  opening  paragraph  of  the  speech 
the  words: 

"  'A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand.'  I  believe 
that  this  government  cannot  permanently  endure  half-slave 
and  half-free.  I  do  not  expect  the  Union  to  be  dissolved — I  do 
not  expect  the  house  to  fall — but  I  do  expect  it  will  become  all 
one  thing,  or  all  the  other." 

"Mr.  Lincoln,"  said  Douglas,  "advocates  boldly  and  clearly 
a  war  of  the  sections,  a  war  of  the  North  against  the  South,  of 
the  free-States  against  the  slave- States,  a  war  of  extermina- 
tion to  be  continued  relentlessly,  until  one  or  the  other  shall 


A  BATTLE  OF  GIANTS  297 

be  subdued,  and  all  the  States  shall  either  become  free  or  shall 
become  slave  States." 

He  then  took  up  other  paragraphs  of  the  speech,  comment- 
ing upon  them  unfairly.  He  was  a  master  in  taking  an  op- 
ponent's assertions  and  twisting  them  into  inferences  ridicu- 
lous and  monstrous,  almost  inverting  the  propositions. 

Lincoln  sat  near  him  on  the  platform,  and  heard  it  all.  He 
bore  the  misrepresentation  good-naturedly.  During  the  ensu- 
ing campaign  he  had  much  need  of  good  nature  for  often  he 
was  shamefully  belied.  But  he  bore  all  patiently,  allowing  no 
word  of  remonstrance  or  complaint  to  escape  his  lips,  bearing 
himself  with  such  dignity  as  to  command  the  respect  of  all 
who  heard  him. 

At  the  close  of  Douglas's  speech  it  was  announced  that  Lin- 
coln would  reply  to  it  on  the  following  evening.  The  greeting 
which  he  received  was  quite  as  enthusiastic  as  that  which  was 
given  Douglas  on  the  previous  evening.  After  a  few  intro- 
ductory remarks  Lincoln  took  up  the  points  of  his  opponent's 
speech  and  treated  them  fully. 

"I  am  not  in  the  first  place  unaware  that  this  government 
has  endured  eighty-two  years,  half-slave  and  half-free,"  he 
said.  "I  believe — and  that  is  what  I  meant  to  allude  to — I  be- 
lieve that  it  has  endured,  because  during  all  that  time,  until 
the  introduction  of  the  Nebraska  Bill,  the  public  mind  did 
rest  in  the  belief  that  slavery  was  in  the  course  of  ultimate  ex- 
tinction." .  .  .  He  then  went  on  to  state  that  he  believed  the 
framers  of  the  Constitution  expected  that,  in  the  course  of 
time,  slavery  would  become  extinct;  they  had  decreed  that 
slavery  should  not  go  into  territory  where  it  had  not  already 
gone,  and  when  he  said  that  the  opponents  of  slavery  would 
place  the  institution  where  the  public  mind  would  rest  in  the 


298  LINCOLN 

expectation  of  its  ultimate  extinction,  he  only  wanted  to  say 
that  they  would  place  it  where  the  fathers  originally  placed  it. 

"We  were  often — more  than  once  at  least — in  the  course  of 
Judge  Douglas's  speech  last  night,  reminded  that  this  govern- 
ment was  made  for  white  men,"  said  Lincoln.  "That  he  believed 
that  it  was  made  for  white  men.  Well,  that  is  putting  it  into 
a  shape  that  no  one  wants  to  deny  it ;  but  the  Judge  then  goes 
into  his  passion  for  drawing  inferences  that  are  not  war- 
ranted. I  protest,  now  and  forever,  against  that  counterfeit 
logic  which  presumes  that  because  I  do  not  want  a  negro 
woman  for  a  slave,  I  do  necessarily  want  her  for  a  wife.  My 
understanding  is  that  I  need  not  have  her  for  either,  but,  as 
God  has  made  us  separate,  we  can  leave  one  another  alone, 
and  do  one  another  much  good  thereby." 

With  this  opening  the  contest  for  the  United  States  Senator- 
ship  began.  From  Chicago  Douglas  went  to  Bloomington,  and 
thence  to  Springfield,  devoting  himself  on  both  occasions  to 
Lincoln's  previous  speeches.  And  closely  upon  his  heels  fol- 
lowed Lincoln,  speaking  from  the  same  platform  though  not 
to  the  same  assemblages.  If  Douglas  spoke  in  the  afternoon, 
Lincoln  followed  either  on  the  evening  of  the  same  day  or  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  next  day.  But  this  was  unsatisfactory,  and 
the  Republican  leaders  wanted  closer  work.  They  wanted  the 
people  to  have  the  privilege  of  hearing  both  candidates  upon 
the  same  occasion  that  they  might  judge  for  themselves  as  to 
their  respective  merits.  Douglas  was  arrogant,  pompous,  wrap- 
ping himself  in  his  Senatorial  toga  which  had  its  effect  upon 
the  masses.  He  had  in  truth  done  much  for  Illinois.  During  the 
tenure  of  his  many  offices  he  had  secured  magnificent  grants  of 
land  which  contributed  to  the  development  of  the  State;  and 
in  return  the  State  had  showered  many  honors  upon  him.  There 


A  BATTLE  OF  GIANTS  299 

was  no  need,  however,  for  the  superior  airs  he  was  assuming. 
It  was  decided  in  Republican  councils,  therefore,  that  Lincoln 
should  challenge  him  to  joint  public  debate.  Accordingly,  Lin- 
coln dispatched  a  note  to  the  Senator  asking  if  it  would  be 
agreeable  to  him  for  an  arrangement  to  be  made  whereby  they 
might  address  the  same  audiences. 

Douglas  demurred  at  first,  but  his  own  followers,  as  well 
as  those  of  Lincoln,  were  eager  for  the  contest ;  so  he  at  length 
consented  that  arrangements  should  be  made  for  seven  joint 
debates  to  be  held  in  the  Congressional  districts  where  they  had 
not  already  spoken.  After  Lincoln  had  accepted  this  proposi- 
tion Douglas  designated  the  times  and  places  where  such  de- 
bates should  be  held.  Each  speaker  was  to  alternate  in  open- 
ing and  closing  discussions.  Although  Douglas  had  reserved 
four  opening  and  closings  to  Lincoln's  three,  the  latter  agreed 
to  the  terms  without  quibbling;  saying  to  those  friends  who 
remonstrated : 

"I  am  not  wholly  unselfish  in  consenting  to  it,  for  I  suspect 
that  if  it  were  understood  that  the  Judge  were  entirely  done, 
the  Democrats  would  leave  and  not  hear  me.  But,  by  giving 
him  the  close,  I  feel  confident  that  they  will  stay  for  the  fun 
of  hearing  him  skin  me." 

About  three  weeks  intervened  between  the  date  of  the  agree- 
ment for  the  joint  debates  and  the  first  appointment,  and  both 
candidates  employed  the  time  in  independent  campaigning. 
Douglas  travelled  in  great  pomp.  He  had  a  special  train  with 
bands  of  music  aboard,  and  a  brass  cannon  fastened  to  a  flat- 
car  attached  to  the  train,  which  announced  his  arrival  at  the 
places  where  he  was  to  speak.  Douglas  was  a  Judge,  a 
Senator,  and  a  potential  Presidential  Candidate.  It  seemed 
proper  to  the  people  that  the  goings  and  comings  of  so  great 


300  LINCOLN 

a  man  should  be  accompanied  by  blare  of  brass  bands  and 
smoke  of  gunpowder. 

Lincoln,  on  the  contrary,  travelled  simply,  and  as  one  of  the 
people.  Sometimes  Douglas  would  roll  magnificently  past 
Lincoln  sidetracked  in  an  accommodation  or  freight  train. 
Once,  as  he  thus  waited  for  Douglas  to  go  by,  the  brass  bands 
blaring,  he  convulsed  the  friends  who  were  with  him  by  taking 
a  French  Harp  *  from  his  pocket,  and  playing  Yankee  Doodle. 

"I  reckon  we  can  have  some  music  of  our  own,"  he  com- 
mented dryly. 

Lincoln  did  not  underrate  the  severity  of  the  contest  in 
which  he  was  about  to  engage,  but  he  believed  that  he  was  right 
in  his  views,  and  to  believe  thoroughly  in  one's  cause  is  to  make 
a  man  almost  invincible.  Certain  of  his  friends,  however,  were 
genuinely  frightened.  Of  course  they  remembered  that  he  had 
made  good  replies  to  Douglas  on  several  occasions,  but  they 
were  troubled,  and  doubted  that  he  could  stand  up  against  so 
great  a  man  hour  after  hour  on  the  same  platform.  Judge 
Douglas  was  ranked  as  one  of  the  greatest  debaters  in  the 
country,  and  for  Lincoln  to  try  to  face  him  for  seven  debates 
— No  wonder  they  were  anxious. 

The  first  meeting  at  Ottawa  showed  the  Republican  leaders 
that  they  had  been  wise  in  forcing  a  joint  debate  upon  Doug- 
las, for  now  the  two  candidates  were  on  an  equal  footing. 
Both  spoke  as  the  representatives  of  two  equally  great  parties 
from  the  same  platform.  Bands  and  processions,  bunting  and 
banners,  cheers  and  applause  balanced  applause  and  cheers, 
banners  and  bunting,  processions  and  bands.  While  Douglas 
was  escorted  to  the  place  of  meeting  in  a  coach  drawn  by  six 
white  horses,  Lincoln  was  conveyed  thither,  with  a  canny  re- 

i  Now  called  a  mouth  organ. 


A  BATTLE  OF  GIANTS  301 

gard  for  democracy,  in  a  Conestoga  wagon  drawn  by  six 
black  steeds. 

A  vast  assemblage,  comprised  of  the  Republican  and  Demo- 
cratic voters  of  the  neighboring  counties,  awaited  the  two  dis- 
putants. It  was  astonishing  how  deep  an  interest  in  politics  the 
people  took ;  an  interest  that  never  waned  all  through  the  won- 
derful discussions  that  followed.  Over  long,  weary  miles  of 
dusty  prairie  they  came — on  foot,  on  horseback,  in  wagons 
drawn  by  horses  or  by  mules,  eager  and  attentive  partisans, 
welcoming  the  opportunity  to  hear  the  principles  of  govern- 
ment set  forth.  There  had  never  been  such  debates. 

At  this  meeting  Douglas,  who  had  the  opening,  commented 
on  Lincoln's  "House  divided  against  itself"  speech,  and  as 
usual  slid  into  talk  about  the  inferiority  of  the  negro.  "I  do  not 
question,"  said  he,  "Mr.  Lincoln's  conscientious  belief  that  the 
negro  was  made  his  equal,  and,  hence,  his  brother ;  but  for  my 
own  part,  I  do  not  regard  the  negro  as  my  equal,  and  positively 
deny  that  he  is  my  brother,  or  any  kin  to  me  whatever.  I  care 
more  for  the  principles  of  just  government,  or  the  right  of 
the  people  to  rule,  than  I  do  for  all  the  negroes  in  Christen- 
dom." 

He  then  charged  Lincoln  with  betraying  the  Whigs  into  the 
hands  of  the  Abolitionists,  and  closed  by  putting  seven  ques- 
tions to  him  concerning  his  creed. 

In  replying  to  Douglas,  Lincoln  simply  denied  the  charges 
made  against  him,  and  stated  his  exact  position  on  the  subject 
of  slavery.  He  acknowledged  how  difficult  it  was  to  get  rid  of 
it.  "But,"  said  he,  "the  law  which  forbids  the  bringing  of  a 
slave  from  Africa,  and  that  which  has  long  forbidden  the  tak- 
ing of  them  to  Nebraska,  can  hardly  be  distinguished  on  any 
moral  principles." 


302  LINCOLN 

At  the  close  of  the  half  hour  which  Douglas  employed  in  his 
reply  to  Lincoln,  the  latter  was  literally  borne  away  upon  the 
shoulders  of  his  friends  in  a  frenzy  of  enthusiasm. 

And  so  began  the  great  debates  of  1858.  Debates  that  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the  entire  nation.  It  was  a  memorable 
canvass,  but  in  all  their  windings  the  debates  centred  about 
the  extension  of  slavery,  and  the  effect  the  Dred  Scott  Deci- 
sion would  have  upon  it.  Issues  that  were  national. 

Douglas  contended  that  it  was  a  matter  that  should  be  left 
to  the  people  of  a  territory.  It  was  nothing  to  him  whether  it 
was  "voted  up,  or  voted  down."  And  yet  he  upheld  the  Dred 
Scott  Decision  which  was  paradoxical. 

Just  the  year  before,  1857,  Chief- Justice  Taney,  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  of  the  United  States,  had  declared  that  under  the 
Constitution  slaves  were  property, — and  as  such  every  Ameri- 
can citizen  owning  slaves  could  carry  them  about  with  him 
wherever  he  went.  That  therefore  slavery  existed  in  all  the 
territories,  and  that  Congress  had  no  right  to  prohibit  it.  "A 
decision  that  set  the  South  wild  with  joy,  and  cast  a  gloom  over 
the  North."  Therefore,  the  Legislatures  of  Territories  might 
pass  all  the  laws  they  chose,  yet  their  settlers  might  bring  with 
them  all  the  slaves  they  pleased. 

Lincoln,  on  the  contrary,  placed  himself  squarely  on  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independence  that  all  men  are  created  equal,  and 
are  by  Heaven  endowed  with  certain  inalienable  rights,  such 
as  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  He  recognized 
the  negro  as  a  man,  coming  under  the  broad  sweep  of  the  Dec- 
laration. He  believed  in  popular  sovereignty,  under  the  Con- 
stitution, but  he  believed  that  the  Dred  Scott  Decision  was  a 
direct  denial  of  it. 


The  Debate  Between  Lincoln  and  Douglas 


A  BATTLE  OF  GIANTS  303 

The  debates  ranged  about  these  issues,  and  both  North  and 
South  watched  their  progress  closely. 

At  Ottawa  Lincoln  had  supposed  that  his  mere  denial  of  the 
charges  made  by  Douglas  was  all  that  was  necessary,  but  in  his 
closing  remarks  Douglas  had  taken  the  ground  that  Lin- 
coln had  not  replied  to  his  questions  specifically  because  he  was 
afraid  to  do  so.  In  preparing  for  the  second  debate  at  Free- 
port,  which  was  to  take  place  six  days  later,  Lincoln  carefully 
enumerated  the  seven  questions  that  Douglas  had  asked,  and 
replied  to  them  fully.  In  addition,  he  turned  questioner,  and 
asked  Judge  Douglas  some  questions.  Ah !  Douglas  little  knew 
the  skill  with  which  his  antagonist  would  use  the  weapon  he 
had  put  into  his  hands. 

Lincoln  consulted  with  his  friends  concerning  the  four  ques- 
tions he  was  going  to  ask,  and  they  objected  to  them. 

"It  will  not  matter  if  you  put  the  first,  third,  and  fourth 
questions,"  they  declared;  "but  don't  put  the  second." 

But  Lincoln,  believing  that  the  principle  point  for  debate 
was  Douglas's  doctrine  of  popular  sovereignty,  in  connection 
with  the  Dred  Scott  Decision, — the  two  things  in  his  opinion 
being  in  direct  antagonism, — wished  to  obtain  a  public  declara- 
tion of  his  stand  in  the  matter. 

The  night  before  the  debate  was  to  take  place  his  friends 
came  to  his  room  at  the  hotel  in  the  little  railroad  centre  of 
Mendota,  where  Lincoln  was  catching  a  few  hours'  rest,  to 
consider  the  ominous  question  once  more.  All  their  advice  was 
against  putting  the  interrogatory  to  Douglas,  but  he  persisted 
in  his  determination  to  do  so. 

"But  see  here,  Lincoln,  if  you  put  that  question  to  him," 
cried  his  friend  Mr.  Judd,  "he  will  perceive  that  an  answer, 


304  LINCOLN 

giving  practical  force  and  effect  to  the  Dred  Scott  Decision  in 
the  territories,  inevitably  loses  him  the  battle ;  and  he  will  there- 
fore reply  by  offering  the  decision  as  an  abstract  principle,  but 
denying  its  practical  application." 

"But  if  he  does  that,  he  can  never  be  President,"  replied  Lin- 
coln. 

"That  is  not  your  lookout,"  responded  his  friends.  "You  are 
after  the  Senatorship." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Lincoln,  "I  am  killing  larger  game.  The 
battle  of  1860  is  worth  a  hundred  of  this." 

Bands  were  playing  the  next  morning  as  they  drew  into 
Freeport.  Line  upon  line  of  men,  women,  and  children,  cheer- 
ing and  waving,  pressed  about  Lincoln  at  the  station,  and  fell 
into  the  procession  which  escorted  him  to  the  hotel  where  the 
candidates  were  supposed  to  rest  before  the  afternoon  discus- 
sion, but  in  reality  where  they  passed  the  time  in  greeting  the 
incoming  delegations. 

A  great  crowd  filled  the  town,  and  swarmed  the  grove  where 
the  discussion  was  to  take  place — a  vast  outpouring  of  people 
from  the  neighboring  regions.  The  air  was  full  of  noise  and 
excitement.  Drums  throbbed,  and  fifes  shrilled  their  thin  pip- 
ings. There  were  delegations  on  horseback,  delegations  on  foot, 
and  delegations  in  wagons ;  and  each  and  every  delegation  was 
gaily  bedecked  with  bunting,  and  carried  banners.  A  wagon 
in  which  sat  thirty-two  girls,  dressed  in  white,  to  represent  the 
thirty-two  States,  wearing  red  sashes  and  blue  caps  wreathed 
in  green  and  bearing  a  single  white  star,  paraded  the  streets, 
their  great  banner  reading: 

"Westward  the  star  of  Empire  takes  its  way. 
The  girls  link  on  to  Lincoln;  their  mothers  were  for  Clay." 


A  BATTLE  OF  GIANTS  305 

Douglas  had  his  banners  and  bunting  too.  The  neighbor- 
hood of  Freeport  was  a  stronghold  of  Northern  Democrats, 
who  were  ardent  supporters  of  the  Little  Giant.  So  the  town 
exhibited  a  gala  appearance. 

But  the  noise  and  excitement  quieted  almost  magically  as 
the  two  disputants  appeared  on  the  rude  wooden  platform  in 
the  grove.  A  stillness  like  that  of  the  forest  settled  over  the 
great  concourse  of  people,  as  the  speaking  began.  A  stillness 
disturbed  only  by  the  sweep  of  the  prairie  wind  in  the  treetops, 
and  the  twitter  of  feathered  songsters. 

Lincoln  had  the  opening  speech  this  day,  and  he  began  by 
answering  Judge  Douglas's  questions  which  the  latter  had 
asked  him  at  Ottawa.  He  was  ever  a  man  transformed  when  he 
began  to  speak,  and  the  present  occasion  was  no  exception.  His 
tall  form  straightened;  his  gray  eyes  flashed,  and  his  counte- 
nance was  transfigured  with  the  inner  light  of  inspiration.  His 
voice,  shrill  at  first,  mellowed  into  clear  ringing  tones  which 
played  upon  the  heartstrings  of  those  who  listened,  like  a  musi- 
cian upon  an  instrument. 

After  he  had  given  his  answer  to  those  queries  which  had 
been  asked  him,  he  proposed  his  four  in  return,  the  second  of 
which  was  the  fateful  question: 

"Can  the  people  of  a  United  States  Territory,  in  any  law- 
ful way,  against  the  wish  of  any  citizen  in  the  United  States, 
exclude  slavery  from  its  limits,  prior  to  the  formation  of  a  State 
Constitution?" 

Stephen  A.  Douglas,  astute  politician  though  he  was,  failed 
to  see  that  he  was  caught.  Whichever  way  he  answered  that 
question  he  would  inevitably  lose  the  support  of  the  North  or 
the  South.  He  was  after  the  Senatorship,  and  he  did  not  look 
beyond  the  moment.  He  did  not  seem  at  all  disturbed  as  he 


306  LINCOLN 

stepped  to  the  front  of  the  platform  and  began  to  speak.  Skil- 
fully he  disposed  of  the  first  question,  and  then,  as  the  silence 
of  the  people  vibrated  with  tense  feeling,  he  took  up  the  second. 
He  said : 

"It  matters  not  what  way  the  Supreme  Court  may  hereafter 
decide,  as  to  the  abstract  question  whether  slavery  may  or  may 
not  go  into  a  Territory  under  the  Constitution,  the  people  have 
the  lawful  means  to  introduce  it,  or  exclude  it  as  they  please, 
for  the  reason  that  slavery  cannot  exist  a  day,  or  an  hour,  any- 
where, unless  it  is  supported  by  police  regulations.  These  po- 
lice regulations  can  only  be  established  by  the  local  legisla- 
ture; and  if  the  people  are  opposed  to  slavery,  they  will  elect 
representatives  to  that  body  who  will,  by  unfriendly  legislation, 
effectually  prevent  the  introduction  of  it  into  their  midst." 

The  answer  was  the  turn  of  the  tide  in  his  political  fortunes. 
Designed  to  please  Illinois  Democrats  it  offended  the  South, 
and  made  his  support  by  it  in  1860  an  utter  impossibility.  He 
had  uttered  what  was  thereafter  called  the  Freeport  Heresy 
which  was  taken  up  and  commented  upon  by  the  newspapers 
all  over  the  Union. 

As  the  debates  progressed  it  became  evident  not  only  to  the 
people  of  the  State,  but  to  the  nation  at  large,  that  while  Doug- 
las was  actuated  solely  by  the  desire  to  win  the  Senatorship, 
Lincoln  was  endeavoring  to  lead  public  opinion  to  loftier  and 
nobler  conceptions  of  political  duty. 

And  now,  when  the  minds  of  the  people  were  attuned  to  re- 
ceive grave  impressions,  there  appeared  in  the  northern  sky  a 
celestial  visitor;  a  comet  that  filled  all  hearts  with  awe  not  un- 
mixed with  dread.  Was  it  a  harbinger  of  war,  a  portent  of 
struggle  to  come?  And  nightly  men  turned  thoughtful  glances 
toward  the  sky  where  the  mysterious  traveller  hung  suspended 


A  BATTLE  OF  GIANTS  307 

in  space,  its  flaming  tail  extended  towards  the  zenith  like  the 
avenging  sword  of  an  angel.  The  nation  was  sick;  would  it  have 
to  answer  with  blood  for  its  sins?  And  people  asked  themselves 
these  questions  more  often  as  the  great  debates  went  on.  And 
the  voice  of  Lincoln  penetrated  every  nook  and  corner  of  the 
State,  like  the  voice  of  a  prophet  of  old : 

"This  mighty  issue  is  the  eternal  struggle  between  right  and 
wrong.  They  are  the  two  principles  that  have  stood  face  to 
face  since  the  beginning  of  time;  and  will  ever  continue  to 
struggle.  The  one  is  the  common  right  of  humanity,  and  the 
other  the  divine  right  of  kings.  It  is  the  same  principle  in  what- 
ever shape  it  develops  itself.  It  is  the  same  spirit  that  says, 
'You  work  and  toil  and  earn  bread,  while  I  eat  it.'  No  matter 
in  what  form  it  comes,  whether  from  the  mouth  of  a  king  who 
seeks  to  bestride  the  people  of  his  own  nation  and  live  by  the 
fruit  of  their  labor,  or  from  one  race  of  men  as  an  apology  for 
enslaving  another  race,  it  is  the  same  tyrannical  principle. 

"In  this  mighty  issue  upon  which,  perhaps,  hangs  the  des- 
tinies of  the  nation,  the  United  States  Senatorship  is  absolutely 
nothing.  I  charge  you  to  drop  every  paltry  and  insignificant 
thought  for  any  man's  success.  It  is  nothing;  I  am  nothing; 
Judge  Douglas  is  nothing.  But  do  not  destroy  that  immortal 
emblem  of  humanity — the  Declaration  of  Independence." 

For  a  period  of  nearly  one  hundred  days  Douglas  and  Lin- 
coln travelled  in  the  heat  and  dust  of  midsummer,  addressing 
the  people.  Frequently  journeys  by  night  were  necessary,  and 
often  they  made  two  and  sometimes  even  three  speeches  in  a 
single  day.  But  at  length  the  days  of  excitement,  of  intense 
mental  strain,  of  arduous  physical  exertion  came  to  an  end. 
The  United  States  Senatorship  went  to  Douglas.  Lincoln 
polled  a  majority  of  the  popular  vote,  but  in  the  counting  by 


308  LINCOLN 

districts  in  the  Legislature  Douglas  was  victor.  The  people  at 
large,  however,  felt  that  Lincoln  was  the  moral  victor,  and  he 
had  made  for  himself  a  name  that  should  endure  as  "long 
as  men  love  liberty  and  regard  justice." 

A  friend  asked  him  how  he  felt  when  the  returns  came  in 
that  insured  his  defeat;  he  replied: 

"Why,  I  reckon  about  like  a  stripling  does  when  he  stubs 
his  toe — too  badly  to  laugh,  and  too  big  to  cry." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE 


THE    MAN    FROM    ILLINOIS 


Byron  awoke  one  morning  and  found  himself  famous.  To 
his  surprise  Abraham  Lincoln  discovered  that,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  defeated  for  the  Senatorship,  he  had  be- 
come a  national  figure.  Letters  filled  with  commendation 
poured  in  upon  him,  not  alone  from  personal  friends,  but  from 
all  over  the  country.  There  were  also  numerous  invitations 
from  all  quarters  of  the  North  asking  him  to  assist  in  the  battle 
being  fought  in  each  State.  And  not  only  was  his  presence 
desired,  but  his  counsels  were  sought  for  all  manner  of  prob- 
lems. The  debates  had  made  him  the  leader  of  his  party  in  the 
West. 

In  fact,  throughout  the  West  his  name  was  a  household 
word.  He  was  one  of  the  people,  their  friend,  the  champion  of 
freedom  and  free  labor,  the  man  who  had  beaten  the  "Little 
Giant"  in  the  popular  vote  of  the  Democratic  State  of  Illinois. 
His  peculiarities,  his  quaint  sayings,  his  stories,  were  passed 
from  house  to  house  as  though  he  were  a  member  of  every 
man's  family. 

"You  have  made  a  noble  canvass,  which,  if  unavailing  in  this 
State,  has  earned  you  a  national  reputation  and  made  you 
friends  everywhere,"  wrote  his  friend  Mr.  Judd  of  Chicago. 

309 


310  LINCOLN 

And  it  seemed  as  though  all  those  friends,  East  as  well  as 
West,  wanted  to  know  him  personally.  There  had  never  been  a 
local  canvass  since  the  formation  of  the  government  which  so 
attracted  the  attention  of  politicians  of  other  States  as  this. 
But  it  was  a  thorough  presentation  of  the  issues  upon  which  the 
next  national  battle  was  to  be  fought,  and  no  two  men  in  the 
nation  better  understood  the  real  nature  of  the  struggle  be- 
tween the  North  and  the  South  than  Lincoln  and  Douglas. 

Lincoln  knew  that  the  fight  was  not  ended,  and  that  even 
though  he  fought  in  the  ranks,  he  must  go  on  with  it.  For  the 
present,  however,  he  wished  to  rest,  and  to  straighten  out  his 
professional  business  which  had  necessarily  suffered  during  his 
absorption  in  politics.  So  during  the  Winter  of  1858-9  he  de- 
voted himself  to  his  own  private  affairs. 

As  has  been  said,  it  had  been  an  arduous  campaign,  and, 
while  Lincoln  was  weary,  he  emerged  from  it  with  no  visible 
mark  of  fatigue  upon  him.  Douglas,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
greatly  exhausted.  His  voice  was  almost  gone,  and  he  scarcely 
spoke  above  a  whisper.  But  he  too  had  an  iron  constitution,  and 
was  soon  himself  again.  Then  he  started  on  a  brief  tour  of  the 
South,  making  speeches  as  he  travelled.  He  realized  that  he 
had  lost  ground  by  his  anti-Lecomptonism,  and  especially  by 
his  Freeport  doctrine,  and  he  wished  to  regain  his  prestige. 

So,  while  Douglas  was  virtually  continuing  the  debate  by 
constantly  referring  to  Lincoln  and  to  Lincoln's  speeches,  Lin- 
coln himself  had  patiently  taken  up  the  dull  commonplace  of 
daily  routine.  If  he  felt  the  sting  of  defeat  he  did  not  show  it. 
He  was  never  so  full  of  his  own  disappointments  that  he  had 
not  time  for  comfort  and  cheer  and  consolation  for  others. 
Even  the  griefs  of  childhood  claimed  his  sympathy  at  all  times. 
Men  loved  him  for  this. 


THE  MAN  FROM  ILLINOIS  311 

Often  in  his  legal  capacity  he  found  occasion  to  act  the  part 
of  comforter.  Such  an  incident  occurred  during  the  summer. 

"Greene,"  said  Lincoln  one  day  to  Gilbert  J.  Greene,  a 
young  printer  living  in  Springfield  at  the  time,  "I've  got  to 
ride  out  into  the  country  tomorrow  to  draw  a  will  for  a  woman 
who  is  believed  to  be  on  her  deathbed.  I  may  want  you  as  a 
witness.  If  you  haven't  anything  else  to  do  I'd  like  to  have  you 
go  along/' 

"I'll  be  glad  to  go,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  answered  the  young  fellow 
greatly  pleased. 

On  the  way  to  the  farmhouse  the  lawyer  and  the  printer 
chatted  delightfully,  cementing  a  friendship  that  was  fast 
ripening  into  real  affection.  They  soon  reached  the  farmhouse 
and  found  the  woman  to  be  near  her  end.  With  great  gentle- 
ness Lincoln  drew  up  the  document  disposing  of  the  property 
as  she  desired.  Neighbors  and  relatives  were  present  making 
it  unnecessary  to  call  on  Greene  to  witness  the  instrument. 
After  the  will  was  signed  the  woman  turned  to  Lincoln  and 
said,  with  a  smile: 

"Now  I  have  my  affairs  of  this  world  arranged  satisfac- 
torily. I  am  thankful  to  say  that  long  before  this  I  made  prep- 
arations for  the  other  life  I  am  about  to  enter.  I  do  not  fear 
death,  Mr.  Lincoln.  I  am  really  glad  that  my  time  has  come." 

Lincoln,  evincing  sympathy  in  every  look  and  gesture,  bent 
towards  her  and  said:  "Your  faith  in  Christ  is  wise  and  strong; 
your  hope  of  a  future  life  is  blessed.  You  are  to  be  congratu- 
lated in  passing  through  life  so  usefully,  and  into  the  life  be- 
yond so  hopefully." 

"Mr.  Lincoln,"  said  she,  "won't  you  read  a  few  verses  out  of 
the  Bible  for  me?" 

A  member  of  the  family  offered  him  the  Family  Bible.  In- 


312  LINCOLN 

stead  of  taking  it,  Lincoln  began  reciting  from  memory  the 
Twenty-third  Psalm,  laying  emphasis  upon — "  'Though  I 
walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  I  will  fear  no 
evil,  for  Thou  art  with  me;  Thy  rod  and  Thy  staff  they  com- 
fort me.'  " 

Still  without  referring  to  the  Bible  he  began  with  the  four- 
teenth chapter  of  John:  "  'Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled;  ye 
believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me.  In  my  Father's  house  are 
many  mansions;  if  it  were  not  so  I  would  have  told  you.  I  go 
to  prepare  a  place  for  you.'  "  And  so  on,  through  all  that 
wonderful  chapter. 

And  as  he  continued  to  give  other  quotations  from  the  Scrip- 
tures those  about  the  bedside  wondered  where  he  had  learned 
so  many  of  them.  Where?  Ah!  where  but  back  in  the  hills  of 
Kentucky  where  his  mother  recited  these  passages  as  she  went 
about  her  work.  Thought  of  her  now  crowded  into  Lincoln's 
mind,  and  with  a  tenderness  and  pathos  that  enthralled  every 
one  in  the  room  he  recited  the  last  stanza  of  the  hymn,  "Rock 
of  Ages": 

"  'While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, 
When  mine  eyes  shall  close  in  death, 
When  I  rise  to  worlds  unknown, 
See  Thee  on  Thy  judgment  throne, 
Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee.'  " 

While  he  was  reciting  this  stanza  a  look  of  peace  lighted  up 
the  countenance  of  the  dying  woman,  and  quietly  she  passed 
away. 

The  journey  back  to  Springfield  was  begun  in  silence.  It 
was  the  younger  man  who  finally  said: 


THE  MAN  FROM  ILLINOIS  313 

"Mr.  Lincoln,  ever  since  what  has  just  happened  back  there 
in  the  farmhouse,  I  have  been  thinking  that  it  is  very  extraor- 
dinary that  you  should  so  perfectly  have  acted  as  pastor  as 
well  as  attorney." 

For  a  long  time  Lincoln  did  not  speak;  finally  he  said:  "God, 
Eternity,  and  Heaven  were  very  near  me  today."  1 

But  Lincoln  was  not  left  long  to  pursue  the  peaceful  practice 
of  his  profession.  There  was  an  excited  condition  in  public  af- 
fairs that  made  many  demands  upon  him.  The  political  pot 
was  bubbling,  and  naturally  he  was  drawn  into  it.  In  May, 
1859,  he  was  appealed  to  by  Dr.  Theodore  Canisius,  a  Ger- 
man citizen  of  Illinois,  to  say,  as  a  possible  candidate  for  the 
Presidency,  what  were  his  views  concerning  the  attempts  made 
in  some  States  to  curtail  the  political  privileges  of  naturalized 
foreigners.  One  such  attempt  had  recently  been  made  in  Mas- 
sachusetts. Lincoln,  while  declining  to  criticise  Massachusetts, 
said  that  he  should  be  sorry  to  see  any  such  proposition  brought 
up  in  Illinois,  and  he  would  oppose  it  whenever  he  had  the  right 
to  do  so. 

There  were  numerous  queries  addressed  to  him  to  obtain  his 
views  upon  matters  of  various  kinds,  and  to  them  all  he  re- 
turned full  and  seemingly  satisfactory  answers.  In  September 
he  was  called  to  Ohio  to  answer  Douglas  who  had  been  invited 
thither  by  the  Democrats  of  the  State  to  help  in  the  canvass  for 
Governor.  Lincoln  made  two  speeches,  one  at  Columbus  and 
another  at  Cincinnati;  speeches  that  were  considered  among 
the  best  efforts  of  his  life.  The  Republicans  of  the  State  won 
a  decided  victory  at  the  polls  in  October,  and  ascribed  the  suc- 
cess in  a  large  measure  to  Lincoln's  speeches.  Thereupon  the 
State  Executive  Committee  resolved  to  publish  in  cheap  book 

i  Charles  T.  White  .  .  .  "Lincoln  the  Comforter." 


314  LINCOLN 

form  the  full  Illinois  Joint  Debates  and  the  two  Ohio  Ad- 
dresses to  serve  as  campaign  material  for  the  ensuing  year. 
The  enterprise  proved  successful  beyond  the  most  sanguine  ex- 
pectations. 

A  little  later  the  whole  country  was  thrown  into  a  blaze  of 
excitement  by  the  raid  of  John  Brown,  of  Osawatomie,  Kan- 
sas, against  the  United  States  Arsenal  at  Harper's  Ferry,  in 
Virginia.  He  was  a  fanatic  who  had  conceived  the  idea  that  the 
liberation  of  the  slaves  could  be  effected  by  arming  them  and 
inciting  them  into  rebellion  against  their  masters.  To  obtain 
the  desired  arms  he  marched,  with  twenty  men,  against  the 
well-stocked  arsenal,  seized  it,  but  could  not  effect  the  desired 
uprising.  He  was  captured,  and  his  execution  followed  as  a 
logical  consequence.  It  was  the  act  of  a  madman,  but  one  can- 
not but  admire  the  sincerity  of  the  grim  old  man  who  was  will- 
ing to  risk  all  for  the  sake  of  a  cause  he  believed  to  be  just. 
More  and  more  as  time  went  on  he  became  recognized  as  a 
martyr  to  the  cause  of  human  liberty. 

The  South  blazed  with  wrath,  the  North  fermented  with 
excitement.  It  was  a  dramatic  climax  to  a  series  of  political 
sensations  that  had  been  ushered  upon  the  country  by  the  re- 
peal of  the  Missouri  Compromise.  Closer  and  closer  the  crisis 
was  approaching. 

In  the  midst  of  the  excitement  Lincoln  was  asked  to  visit 
Kansas,  and  accepted.  He  was  received  by  the  people  of  the 
State  with  the  honor  due  to  one  who  had  done  battle  for  free- 
dom. As  he  was  returning  home  from  this  trip,  one  day  a  man 
of  forbidding  countenance  met  him,  gazed  at  him  fixedly  for 
a  moment,  then  whipped  out  a  revolver,  and  thrust  it  almost  in 
Lincoln's  face. 


THE  MAN  FROM  ILLINOIS  315 

He  did  not  seem  excited,  and  there  was  no  rancor  in  his 
manner.  Lincoln  was  puzzled. 

"Just  what  seems  to  be  the  matter?"  he  queried  mildly. 

"Sir,"  answered  the  stranger  still  regarding  him  intently, 
"some  years  ago  I  swore  that  if  ever  I  ran  across  an  uglier 
man  than  I  was,  I  would  shoot  him  on  the  spot.  You  are  he." 

"Shooc,"  replied  Lincoln,  "for  if  I  am  an  uglier  man  than 
you  are,  I  don't  want  to  live." 

In  October  Lincoln  received  an  invitation  from  the  Re- 
publican Union  Club  of  New  York  City  desiring  him  to  deliver 
a  political  lecture  during  the  ensuing  month.  But  his  affairs 
were  such  that  he  could  not  go  until  February.  If  that  time 
would  suit  them,  he  wrote,  he  would  be  pleased  to  give  it  then. 
The  time  was  satisfactory,  and  arrangements  were  made  for 
the  lecture  to  take  place  on  the  Twenty-seventh  of  that  month. 
It  was  first  announced  that  the  address  would  be  delivered 
in  Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn,  of  which  Henry  Ward 
Beecher  was  pastor,  but  later  the  place  was  changed  to  Cooper 
Institute,  New  York  City.  Lincoln,  however,  did  not  learn 
of  the  change  until  after  he  had  reached  New  York.  During 
the  fall  and  winter  he  was  occupied  for  the  greater  part  of 
his  spare  time  in  preparing  this  speech. 

In  the  middle  of  this  winter  of  1859-60,  the  leaders  of  the 
Republican  party  of  Illinois  met  in  Springfield,  and  requested 
Lincoln  to  let  them  present  his  name  to  the  national  convention 
as  a  Presidential  Candidate.  They  wished  this  done  more  with 
the  idea  of  securing  his  nomination  as  Vice-President  than  with 
any  expectation  that  he  would  secure  the  nomination.  Lincoln 
consented  to  this,  but  built  no  hopes  whatever  on  national 
preferment.  He  did  believe,  however,  that  such  mention  would 


316  LINCOLN 

help  him  in  the  contest  for  the  United  States  Senatorship 
which  he  intended  to  make  again  as  soon  as  Douglas's  term 
should  expire. 

He  left  Springfield  for  New  York  in  the  latter  part  of 
February,  arriving  in  the  latter  city  on  the  Twenty-fifth  of  that 
month.  It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  and  as  his  arrival  was  per- 
sonally unheralded  he  went  at  once  to  the  Astor  House  from 
which  place  he  proceeded  to  the  office  of  Henry  C.  Bowen, 
editor  of  "The  Independent."  Mr.  Bowen  was  a  prominent 
member  of  Plymouth  Church  in  Brooklyn,  and  had  taken  the 
leading  part  in  organizing  and  promoting  the  invitation  that 
induced  Lincoln  to  come  to  New  York  to  speak. 

Lincoln  knocked  on  the  door  of  the  office,  and  when  a 
voice  bade  him  enter,  he  opened  the  door  and  went  in.  A  man 
sat  at  a  desk  so  absorbed  in  his  work  that  he  did  not  turn 
around  at  his  entrance.  Lincoln  stood  waiting  some  little  time, 
then  spoke: 

"Is  this  Mr.  Henry  C.  Bowen?'1 

"Yes,"  answered  the  man  shortly,  still  not  turning  around. 

"I  am  Abraham  Lincoln,"  announced  Lincoln  quietly. 

The  editor  whirled  quickly,  sprang  up,  and  came  towards 
him,  but  his  expression  of  welcome  changed  to  one  of  dismay  at 
sight  of  his  visitor.  Lincoln  was  tall,  ungainly,  his  clothes  were 
badly  wrinkled,  travel-stained,  and  he  looked  tired  and  woe- 
begone. Various  expressions  flitted  over  the  editor's  face  as 
he  uttered  some  commonplace  words  of  greeting.  He  was  evi- 
dently dismayed,  and  was  wondering  if  this  awkward,  illy- 
dressed  man  could  be  the  man  who  had  worsted  the  "Little 
Giant"  in  debate.  Lincoln  noted  his  surprise  and  spoke  with 
gentleness  and  dignity: 

"Mr.  Bowen,  I  am  just  in  from  Springfield,  Illinois,  and  I 


THE  MAN  FROM  ILLINOIS  317 

am  very  tired.  If  you  have  no  objection,  I  will  lie  down  on 
your  lounge  here,  and  you  can  tell  me  about  the  arrangements 
for  Monday  night." 

Mr.  Bowen  hastily  arranged  the  couch.  Lincoln's  manner- 
was  fast  dispelling  his  first  feeling  of  disappointment.  Lincoln 
led  in  the  subjects  of  conversation  that  followed,  and  pres- 
ently his  powerful  and  winning  personality  made  itself  felt. 
The  editor  began  to  exult  in  the  prospect  of  the  triumph  when 
Lincoln  should  greet  his  audience.  He  was  not  the  first,  nor 
yet  the  last,  whose  first  impression  of  Lincoln  was  changed 
after  a  few  moments'  conversation.  Before  they  separated  Lin- 
coln had  accepted  his  invitation  to  attend  services  at  Plymouth 
Church  with  him  next  morning. 

On  Monday  he  was  taken  for  a  drive  about  the  city,  visiting 
some  of  the  more  important  streets  and  places  of  interest.  He 
met  with  George  Bancroft,  the  historian,  and  other  men  of 
note.  But  Lincoln  felt  sad,  and  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  his 
own  insignificance.  An  oppression  that  had  not  left  him  when 
he  entered  the  great  hall  of  Cooper  Union  that  evening,  and 
found  a  large  audience  awaiting  him.  An  immense  audience,  for 
New  York  people  were  curious  concerning  him. 

David  Dudley  Field  escorted  him  to  the  platform  which  was 
crowded  with  the  Republican  leaders  of  New  York  and  Brook- 
lyn. William  Cullen  Bryant  presided,  and  in  introducing  Lin- 
coln said: 

"It  is  a  grateful  office  that  I  perform,  in  introducing  to  you 
an  eminent  citizen  of  the  West,  hitherto  known  only  to  you  by 
reputation." 

It  was  a  pleasing  introduction,  but  Lincoln  was  more  pleased 
when  Mr.  Bryant,  in  the  "Evening  Post" — of  which  he  was 
editor — said  in  next  day's  issue:  "For  the  publication  of  such 


318  LINCOLN 

words  of  weight  and  wisdom  as  those  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  the  pages 
of  this  journal  are  indefinitely  elastic." 

Lincoln  had  never  been  so  embarrassed  in  his  life  as  when  he 
rose  to  face  this  most  critical  audience  of  his  career.  In  Illinois 
the  people  knew  and  understood  him.  His  style  of  speech  and 
mode  of  reasoning  were  his  own ;  and  he  had  misgivings  touch- 
ing their  reception  among  those  whose  ideas  of  oratory  were 
derived  from  other  models.  He  began  his  address  in  low,  mo- 
notonous tones,  but  gaining  confidence  as  he  spoke,  his  voice, 
that  had  long  been  accustomed  to  out-of-door  efforts,  rose  in 
strength  and  gained  in  clearness,  until  every  one  in  the  great 
hall  heard  every  word.  His  manner  of  speech  was  so  fresh, 
earnest  and  sincere,  his  mode  of  statement  was  so  clear  and 
simple,  every  point  he  assumed  was  so  fair,  every  conclusion 
so  forcible,  and  above  all  his  illustrations  were  so  quaint,  the 
listening  people  followed  him  with  delight. 

As  the  subject  of  his  discourse  he  took  the  words  of  Senator 
Douglas,  uttered  in  a  speech  at  Columbus,  Ohio,  the  previous 
Autumn:  "Our  Fathers  when  they  framed  the  government 
under  which  we  live,  understood  this  question  of  slavery  just  as 
well,  and  even  better,  than  we  do  now." 

To  this  statement  Lincoln  agreed,  and  then  went  on  to  in- 
quire what  the  fathers  who  framed  the  government  thought  and 
did  about  slavery.  "It  was  a  masterly  exposition  of  the  early 
days  of  the  Republic  when  the  political  institutions  of  the  na- 
tion were  in  process  of  formation." 

Lincoln  next  took  up  the  topic  that  was  in  every  one's 
thoughts — that  of  the  strained  relations  of  the  North  and  the 
South,  addressing  words  of  kindly  admonition  to  the  South. 
The  concluding  section  was  directed  especially  to  Republicans, 
and  he  closed  with  these  words : 


THE  MAN  FROM  ILLINOIS  319 

"Neither  let  us  be  slandered  from  our  duty  by  false  accusa- 
tions against  us,  nor  frightened  from  it  by  menaces  of  de- 
struction to  the  government.  Let  us  have  faith  that  right  makes 
might,  and  in  that  faith,  let  us,  to  the  end,  dare  to  do  our  duty 
as  we  understand  it." 

During  the  delivery  of  the  speech  the  vast  auditorium  was  so 
still  thai  the  sizzling  of  the  gas  jets  could  be  heard,  save  when 
some  telling  point  was  made  so  forcibly  that  the  people  burst 
into  thunders  of  applause.  The  man  from  Illinois  had  con- 
quered New  York.  The  rural  lawyer  had  become  a  lion. 

The  speech  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  ever  delivered 
in  the  city  of  New  York,  and  its  full  text  was  printed  in  the 
next  day's  newspapers.  Later  it  received  wide  circulation  as 
a  campaign  document  from  the  rooms  of  the  Republican  Com- 
mittee. "Critics  who  read  the  speech  marveled  at  its  pure  and 
compact  English,  its  felicity  of  statement  and  its  faultless 
logic."  It  was  read  not  only  by  New  York  but  by  nearly  all 
New  England  as  well. 

In  consequence,  Lincoln  received  many  invitations  to  speak 
on  political  matters  in  New  England.  He  accepted  a  few  of 
these.  His  speaking  was  always  to  immense  audiences. 

When  speaking  at  New  Haven,  a  professor  of  rhetoric  in 
Yale  College,  who  had  come  to  hear  him,  was  so  impressed  by 
the  speech  and  its  manner  of  delivery  that  he  made  notes  of  the 
address,  and  the  next  day  gave  a  lecture  on  it  to  his  class.  Not 
satisfied  with  that  he  followed  Lincoln  to  Meriden  the  next 
evening,  and  heard  him  again,  presenting  his  notes  to  his  class 
the  next  day  as  a  model.  To  Lincoln,  with  the  modest  estimate 
he  put  on  himself  and  his  attainments,  this  was  the  most  ex- 
traordinary happening  of  his  success  in  the  East.  He  had  been 
astonished  by  the  reception  accorded  his  speeches  in  New  York 


320  LINCOLN 

and  New  England,  but  he  was  more  than  amazed  that  he  should 
produce  such  an  impression  upon  literary  and  learned  men. 
His  oldest  son,  Robert  Todd  Lincoln,  was  now  at  Harvard 
College,  and  after  paying  him  a  short  visit,  Lincoln  turned 
his  face  homeward,  much  gratified  by  his  enthusiastic  recep- 
tion. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIX 


OLD    ABRAM    IS   THE   MAN 


The  National  Conventions  were  held  early  this  Presidential 
year  of  1860,  perhaps  because  everybody  felt  that  a  severe  po- 
litical storm  was  brewing  though  few  knew  what  its  character 
would  be.  Lincoln  had  scarcely  returned  home  before  the  first 
of  the  National  Conventions  was  held.  This  was  the  Demo- 
cratic Convention  which  met  at  Charleston,  South  Carolina, 
April  23rd,  to  nominate  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency. 

As  the  Northern  Democrats  would  consider  no  one  but 
Stephen  A.  Douglas,  and  the  South,  though  once  it  had  loved 
Douglas  now  would  have  none  of  him,  there  was  a  stormy  ses- 
sion which  resulted  in  a  party  split.  Each  faction,  after  various 
meetings  and  delays,  chose  its  own  candidate,  Douglas  being 
the  candidate  of  the  Northern  section;  John  C.  Breckinridge, 
of  Kentucky,  being  that  of  the  Southern  faction. 

On  May  10th,  the  Republican  State  Convention  of  Illinois 
met  at  Decatur,  Macon  County.  As  a  matter  of  course  Lin- 
coln attended;  and  when  his  tall  form  appeared  on  the  plat- 
form, the  delegates  rose  as  one  man  and  cheered  again  and 
again,  giving  him  the  greatest  ovation  he  had  ever  received.  He 
was  a  little  surprised  at  so  demonstrative  a  reception,  and  won- 

321 


322  LINCOLN 

dered  no  little  thereat.  The  mystery  was  soon  solved.  As  soon 
as  the  balloting  for  candidates  for  State  Officers  was  finished, 
Governor  Oglesby,  who  presided,  rose  and  said: 

"Gentlemen,  there  is  at  the  door  an  old-time  Macon  County 
Democrat  who  has  a  contribution  to  make  to  this  Convention. 
What  is  your  pleasure  concerning  him?  Shall  he  be  admitted?" 

It  was  moved,  seconded,  and  carried  that  the  gentleman 
should  be  received,  and,  amid  great  enthusiasm,  John  Hanks 
with  a  neighbor  marched  into  the  hall  bearing  on  their  shoul- 
ders two  old  fence  rails,  gaily  bedecked  with  red,  white,  and 
blue  ribbons,  and  carrying  the  inscription : 

"Abraham  Lincoln,  the  Rail  Candidate  for  the  Presidency. 
Two  rails  from  a  lot  of  three  thousand,  made  in  1830,  by  John 
Hanks  and  Abe  Lincoln — whose  father  was  the  first  pioneer 
of  Macon  County." 

The  audience  almost  went  wild  in  its  enthusiasm,  while  Lin- 
coln was  taken  completely  by  surprise.  He  knew  that  his  name 
was  to  be  presented  to  the  Convention  to  be  endorsed  as  the 
choice  of  Illinois  for  the  Presidency,  but  he  did  not  know  that 
it  was  to  be  brought  forward  in  this  manner.  However,  he  was 
gratified  by  the  enthusiastic  reception,  and  when  the  cheering 
ceased,  and  he  was  called  upon  to  tell  about  the  rails,  he  rose 
and  simply  said : 

"John  Hanks  and  I  did  make  some  rails  for  my  father's 
farm  in  Macon  County,  in  1830.  I  wouldn't  make  my  affidavit 
that  those  are  some  of  the  veritable  rails,  but  if  there  are  any 
of  those  rails  left,  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  these  are  two  of  them. 
The  fact  is,  I  don't  think  they  are  a  credit  to  the  makers.  But 
I  do  know  this:  I  made  rails  then,  and  I  think  I  could  make 
better  ones  now." 

Once  more  the  hall  rang  with  cheers  and  laughter,  and  amid 


"OLD  ABRAM  IS  THE  MAN"  323 

intense  excitement,  Abraham  Lincoln  was  named  as  the  choice 
of  Illinois  for  the  Presidency.  And  from  that  day  forward  he 
was  known  as  The  Rail- Splitter  Candidate. 

By  this  time  the  straggling  village  of  Chicago  had  become 
a  city  of  a  hundred  thousand  people,  and  it  was  in  recognition 
of  the  growing  power  and  importance  of  the  great  West  that 
the  Convention  was  held  there.  An  immense  crowd,  from  all 
parts  of  the  country,  filled  every  hotel  and  lodging  house  in 
the  city.  As  there  was  no  public  building  large  enough,  a  tem- 
porary structure  called  "The  Wigwam"  had  been  erected  for 
the  sessions  of  the  Convention.  Lincoln,  as  one  upon  whom 
National  preferment  might  be  bestowed,  remained  at  home, 
but  in  constant  telegraphic  communication  with  his  friends 
there.  Consequently,  through  this  means  and  by  the  news- 
papers, he  knew  everything  that  took  place.  Although  he  had 
been  increasingly  mentioned  as  a  Presidential  candidate,  he 
did  not  hope  for  anything  beyond  the  Vice-Presidency.  His 
friends  were  more  sanguine. 

The  first  day's  session  was  devoted  to  organization  and  other 
routine  business.  On  the  second  day,  a  platform,  affirming  the 
right  of  every  man  to  freedom,  was  adopted  with  great  en- 
thusiasm. 

On  the  third  day,  everybody  was  anxious  to  get  down  to  the 
balloting.  A  great  throng  gathered  around  the  "Wigwam," 
only  a  small  portion  of  which  could  obtain  admission.  There 
was  some  little  preliminary  business,  and  then  the  names  of 
candidates  were  announced.  The  ceremony  was  still  in  its  sim- 
plicity. 

"I  take  the  liberty,"  spoke  Mr.  Evarts  of  New  York,  "to 
name  as  a  candidate  to  be  nominated  by  this  Convention  for  the 
office  of  President  of  the  United  States,  William  H.  Seward." 


324  LINCOLN 

"I  desire,"  followed  Mr.  Judd  of  Illinois,  "on  behalf  of  the 
delegation  from  Illinois  to  put  in  nomination  as  a  candidate 
for  President  of  the  United  States  Abraham  Lincoln  of  Illi- 
nois." 

Then  followed  the  usual  complimentary  nomination  of  fa- 
vorite sons  of  the  various  States.  Their  names  provoked  salvos 
of  cheers  from  their  respective  delegations,  but  only  the  names 
of  Seward  and  Lincoln  created  much  enthusiasm.  At  every 
mention  of  these  men  the  whole  Wigwam  responded  vocifer- 
ously. 

The  balloting  began.  Although  this  ballot  was  not  expected 
to  be  decisive,  being  the  customary  tribute  of  admiration  to 
the  complimentary  candidates,  it  was  conducted  with  intense 
excitement.  The  announcement  of  the  result  was  received  with 
great  applause.  Seward,  17314;  Lincoln,  102;  the  rest  scatter- 
ing. 

On  the  second  ballot  Lincoln  gained  79  votes,  and  received 
181;  while  Seward,  having  gained  11,  received  1841/->,  all  told. 
The  announcement  of  the  votes  given  to  Seward  and  Lincoln 
was  received  with  deafening  cheers  by  their  respective  hench- 
men. It  was  necessary  to  a  choice  that  one  candidate  should 
have  two  hundred  and  thirty-three  of  the  four  hundred  and 
sixty-five  votes  cast. 

There  was  tense  interest  as  the  third  ballot  began.  Delegates 
and  spectators  alike  kept  tally  as  the  roll  call  of  the  States 
went  on.  Steadily  the  Lincoln  figures  mounted.  Seward's  men 
trembled  and  turned  pale  with  apprehension.  Before  the  of- 
ficial tellers  footed  their  columns  it  was  whispered  among  the 
people,  shivering  with  suppressed  excitement,  that  Abraham 
Lincoln  had  two  hundred  and  thirty-one  and  a  half  votes;  Sew- 


"OLD  ABRAM  IS  THE  MAN"  325 

ard,  one  hundred  and  eighty.  Only  one  and  a  half  votes  more 
were  necessary  for  a  nomination. 

The  vast  auditorium  grew  so  still  that  the  ticking  of  the 
telegraphic  instruments  at  the  reporters'  tables  could  be  heard 
distinctly.  Changes  were  in  order,  and,  "while  every  one  leaned 
forward  in  intense  expectancy,"  Mr.  Carter  of  Ohio  sprang 
upon  his  chair,  and  cried  out  that  four  of  Ohio's  votes  were 
changed  from  Chase  to  Lincoln.  Abraham  Lincoln  was  nomi- 
nated. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause — men  sat  unable  to  grasp  what 
had  happened.  A  teller  waved  his  tally-sheet  toward  a  skylight 
where  a  watchman  stood  waiting,  and  shouted: 

"Fire  the  salute!  Abe  Lincoln  is  nominated!" 

Realization  swept  the  assembly.  The  impossible  had  hap- 
pened. Abraham  Lincoln,  the  rail-splitter,  had  beaten  the  re- 
nowned William  H.  Seward.  Pandemonium  broke  loose.  The 
moment's  pause  was  broken  by  a  roar  that  shook  the  building; 
a  roar  that  was  answered  by  the  surging  masses  outside.  Men 
shouted,  and  sang,  and  danced,  and  hugged  each  other  in  a  de- 
lirium of  joy.  Amid  the  wildest  hurrahs  delegation  after 
delegation  changed  its  votes  to  the  victor. 

When  the  din  had  subsided  so  that  he  could  be  heard,  Mr. 
Evarts,  of  New  York,  rose  and  in  a  voice  trembling  with  emo- 
tion, spoke  of  his  sorrow  at  the  defeat  of  Mr.  Seward,  and 
moved  that  the  nomination  of  Lincoln  be  made  unanimous. 
This  was  done,  and  the  Convention  adjourned  for  dinner,  later 
re-assembling  to  complete  its  work  by  electing  a  candidate  for 
Vice-President.  The  result  was  the  election  of  Hannibal  Ham- 
lin, of  Maine. 

Lincoln  was  loved  in  Chicago,  and  the  city  went  wild  with 


326  LINCOLN 

delight.  All  day  and  far  into  the  night  there  were  the  thunder- 
ing of  cannon  over  the  tossing  waters  of  the  lake,  the  clamor 
of  drums,  the  glare  of  bonfires.  Decorated  and  illuminated  rails 
sprang  up  magically,  and  were  in  evidence  everywhere.  Men 
and  boys  were  delighted  with  the  idea  of  a  candidate  for  the 
Presidency  who  thirty  years  before  split  rails  on  the  Sangamon 
River.  From  Chicago  the  news  spread  over  the  country,  and 
from  Maine  to  the  Mississippi  there  was  rejoicing. 

At  home,  in  Springfield,  surrounded  by  friends,  Lincoln 
awaited  the  returns  in  the  office  of  the  Illinois  "Journal."  The 
result  of  the  second  ballot  had  been  received  and  commented 
upon,  and  the  little  group  sat  in  silence  awaiting  the  dispatch 
that  would  give  the  decisive  news.  At  length,  a  messenger  from 
the  telegraph  office  entered,  and  made  his  way  solemnly  to 
Lincoln's  side.  As  he  reached  him,  he  said: 

"The  Convention  has  made  a  nomination,  and  Seward  is — 
the  second  man  on  the  list."  Then  jumping  upon  a  table  he 
shouted:  "Three  cheers  for  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  next  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States!" 

The  cheers  were  given  with  a  vim,  and  then  the  men  crowded 
about  Lincoln,  congratulating  him  fervently,  as  he  read  the 
telegram  to  them  which  confirmed  the  messenger's  announce- 
ment. Lincoln  shook  hands  all  around,  then  pocketed  the  dis- 
patch, remarking, 

"There's  a  little  woman  on  Eighth  Street  who  would  like 
to  know  about  this."  He  walked  home  to  tell  the  news. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  was  waiting  for  him. 

"Are  you  going  to  be  Vice-President,  Abraham?"  she  cried 
as  he  entered  the  hall. 

"No,  Mary,"  responded  Lincoln  with  a  shake  of  the  head. 
And  then  as  a  disappointed  expression  swept  over  her  face,  he 


"OLD  ABRAM  IS  THE  MAN"  327 

added:  "Not  Vice-President;  but  they  have  nominated  me  for 
an  office  that  perhaps  you  will  like  better."  And  he  handed  her 
the  telegram. 

"Oh,  Abraham,"  she  cried  throwing  her  arms  about  him. 
"I'm  so  glad!  I  always  said  that  I'd  marry  a  man  who  would 
be  President." 

"But  I  am  not  elected  yet,"  reminded  Lincoln  with  a  smile. 

"No;  but  you  will  be,"  she  replied  confidently.  "Now  aren't 
you  glad  that  I  didn't  let  you  go  to  Oregon?" 

Lincoln  laughed;  then  an  expression  of  melancholy  flitted 
across  his  countenance. 

"It  may  be  that  we  shall  be  sorry  that  we  did  not  go,  Mary. 
If  I  should  be  elected  there  may  be  little  pleasure  for  you  in 
Washington.  The  future  looks  dark.  Prospects  and  conditions 
in  the  country  are*  alarming.  If  the  South  should  secede  the 
office  of  President  will  be  no  sinecure." 

"Oh,  Abraham,  you  always  see  the  dark  side  of  things,"  ex- 
claimed his  wife.  "I  am  sure  that  everything  will  clear  up  once 
election  is  over.  There  has  been  talk  of  secession  before,  and 
what  did  it  amount  to?  The  North  doesn't  want  to  lose  the 
custom  of  the  South,  and  the  South  must  have  some  place  to 
sell  its  cotton.  The  two  sections  need  each  other  too  much  for 
such  a  thing  to  happen.  Everything  will  turn  out  all  right,  I 
am  sure.  Now  come  to  dinner.  There  are  lamb  chops  and  straw- 
berry shortcake." 

"Well,  that's  good  enough  for  the  President  himself,  let 
alone  a  mere  nominee,"  said  Lincoln. 

As  soon  as  the  news  became  known  in  Springfield  the  citi- 
zens of  the  little  capital  could  not  contain  their  joy.  They 
fired  an  hundred  guns,  and  demonstrated  in  every  way  their 
gladness.  They  idolized  Lincoln,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  day, 


328  LINCOLN 

and  the  most  of  the  night  they  paraded,  and  sang,  and  shouted, 
swarming  about  his  house  to  tender  their  congratulations  and 
to  express  their  pleasure.  When  he  invited  as  many  as  could 
to  come  inside  the  house,  saying  that  he  was  sorry  that  it  was 
not  large  enough  to  contain  them  all,  they  laughingly  called 
back: 

"Never  mind.  We'll  give  you  a  larger  one  after  March 
Fourth." 

As  was  the  custom,  a  Committee  had  been  appointed  by  the 
National  Convention  to  notify  Lincoln  formally  and  officially 
of  his  nomination.  This  Committee,  headed  by  the  Honorable 
George  Ashmum,  visited  Springfield  the  next  day,  for  this 
purpose.  The  Committee  was  very  much  pleased  with  the 
nominee.  The  simple  earnestness  and  sincerity  with  which  he 
received  and  replied  to  the  speech  of  notification  made  by  Mr. 
Ashmum  impressed  them  favorably.  They  went  away  feeling 
assured  that  the  standard  of  their  party  could  be  carried  by 
no  better  hands.  On  the  23rd  of  June  Lincoln  wrote  a  formal 
letter  accepting  the  nomination  for  the  Presidency,  and  sub- 
scribing to  the  platform  of  the  party  as  set  forth  in  his  written 
notification. 

With  the  indomitable  spirit  of  America  he  had  reached  the 
culmination  of  all  his  hopes  and  aspirations.  The  friendless, 
penniless,  pioneer  boy  had  stormed  the  heights  of  knowledge 
and  honor,  and  had  been  crowned  victor.  It  was  again  the 
American  Epic  demonstrating  that  from  the  humblest  begin- 
nings there  may  be  development  to  highest  place  and  im- 
measurable service.  It  was  the  American  spirit,  symbol  of  the 
character,  growth,  and  achievement  of  our  nation.  The  spirit 
which  says  that  no  one  may  be  so  humble,  so  poor,  so  obscure, 
but  that  he  can,  if  he  will,  acquire  sufficient  education  to  get 


"OLD  ABRAM  IS  THE  MAN"  329 

through  the  world  respectably,  and  be  representative  of  all 
that  is  worthily  American.  But  Lincoln,  at  this  time,  was  not 
thinking  of  his  humble  beginnings,  his  early  struggles,  his  later 
development,  and  rejoicing  at  his  elevation.  He  felt  no  exulta- 
tion, no  elation ;  only  the  pressure  of  a  new  and  great  respon- 
sibility. 

The  voters  this  election  had  the  choice  of  four  candidates, 
and  all  parties  entered  upon  the  campaign  with  spirit.  Cam- 
paign songs  swept  the  country  like  wildfire;  their  rousing 
choruses  being  taken  up  and  made  as  familiar  as  household 
words.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  people  of  the  North  burst  all 
bonds.  Rails,  representing  the  hardships  of  pioneer  life,  be- 
came the  oriflamme  of  the  leader  of  the  Republican  party. 
Their  history  and  campaign  incidents  were  exploited  in  the 
newspapers,  and  throughout  the  Union  Lincoln's  ancient  and 
local  sobriquet  of  "Honest  Old  Abe,"  was  supplemented  by  the 
national  epithet  of  "The  Illinois  Rail-Splitter."  The  incidents 
of  his  life  appealed  to  the  masses  of  the  people.  He  had  been 
a  pioneer,  a  farm-laborer,  a  flat-boatman,  and  a  frontier  poli- 
tician; and  they  saw  in  him  a  true  representative  of  America. 
His  success  was  the  ideal  of  their  own  aspirations. 

A  flood  of  visitors  from  every  part  of  the  country  swarmed 
into  Springfield  to  see  him.  Lincoln  received  every  one  with 
the  homely  and  hearty  hospitality  that  he  had  always  shown 
visitors.  Many  who  expected  to  find  him  imbued  with  a  sense 
of  his  own  importance,  found  him  the  same  honest,  kindly, 
earnest  man  he  had  always  been.  None  of  his  old  heartiness  and 
sincerity  left  him.  He  was  astonished  to  find  how  many  friends 
he  had ;  but  they  almost  overwhelmed  him. 

So  great  did  the  throng  become  that  at  length  a  room  in  the 
State  House  was  set  aside  for  his  use,  and  here  he  received  the 


330  LINCOLN 

public.  Transferring  all  his  law  business  to  Herndon,  he  de- 
voted himself  from  morning  until  night  to  the  reception  of  his 
callers,  with  conscientious  care  and  unwearying  patience.  Some 
came  from  idle  curiosity,  others  honestly  rejoicing  at  his  ele- 
vation; and  still  others  from  selfish  motives,  seeing  in  the  can- 
didate a  possible  means  to  office.  But  Lincoln  was  a  Man  of 
the  People — one  of  them — and,  from  whatever  motive  they 
came,  he  gave  each  one  a  cordial  welcome. 

As  the  summer  passed  the  political  sky  darkened.  The  gath- 
ering storm  was  almost  ready  to  burst.  The  South  was  making 
its  last  stand.  Threats  of  Secession  grew  louder  and  deeper. 
Openly  it  was  declared  that  if  a  Republican  President  were 
elected  the  South  would  leave  the  Union.  Lincoln  was  often 
bowed  down  with  despondency  as  he  visioned  the  future. 

The  summer  passed;  election  drew  near.  His  political  op- 
ponents, working  desperately  in  their  own  organizations,  vir- 
tually conceded  his  election.  Lie  had  been  a  wise  candidate ;  no 
amount  of  vituperation  could  elicit  a  word  in  self-vindication, 
though  abuse  was  heaped  upon  him  unsparingly.  He  stood 
upon  his  record. 

On  the  Sixth  of  November  the  election  took  place,  and  re- 
sulted in  Lincoln's  triumph.  All  day  there  was  the  greatest  ex- 
citement in  Springfield  as  news  from  the  different  sections  of 
the  country  came  thick  and  fast.  Every  report  of  gains  for 
Lincoln  was  the  signal  for  fresh  demonstrations  of  rejoicing 
from  the  citizens  of  the  little  capital.  On  every  street  men, 
bearing  rails,  paraded,  singing  and  shouting. 

A  large  crowd  was  massed  near  the  State  House,  and  on 
its  steps  E.  W.  Locke,  later  called  Father  Locke  when  he 
sang  to  the  boys  in  the  army,  was  singing  a  song  of  his  own 
composition : 


"OLD  ABRAM  IS  THE  MAN"  331 

"Hark !  hark !  a  signal  gun  is  heard, 

Just  out  beyond  the  fort ; 
The  good  old  Ship  of  State,  my  boys, 

Is  coming  into  port. 
With  shattered  sails  and  anchors  gone, 

I  fear  the  rogues  will  strand  her; 
She  carries  now  a  sorry  crew, 

And  needs  a  new  commander. 

"Old  Abram  is  the  man ! 
Old  Abram  is  the  man ! 

And  he'll  trim  her  sails, 

As  he  split  the  rails, 
Old  Abram  is  the  man  !" 

The  shouts,  the  music  of  brass  bands,  the  sound  of  cheering 
voices  wore  upon  Lincoln,  who  had  been  under  a  heavy  strain 
ever  since  his  nomination,  so  that  he  was  well  tired  out  in  the 
afternoon,  and  went  home  to  rest. 

Throwing  himself  upon  a  lounge  in  his  chamber  he  lay  idly 
looking  at  the  objects  within  the  range  of  his  vision.  Opposite 
to  where  he  lay  was  a  bureau  with  a  swinging  glass  upon  it,  and 
looking  in  the  glass  he  saw  himself  reflected  nearly  at  full 
length;  but  his  face  had  two  separate  and  distinct  images,  the 
tip  of  the  nose  of  one  being  about  three  inches  from  the  tip 
of  the  other.  Lincoln  was  startled,  and  lay  for  a  moment  gazing 
at  the  reflection;  then  got  up  and  looked  into  the  glass.  The 
illusion  vanished,  but,  on  lying  down  again,  he  saw  it  a  second 
time,  plainer  than  before.  And  then  he  noticed  that  one  of  the 
faces  was  about  five  shades  paler  than  the  other.  He  got  up,  and 
again  the  vision  disappeared.  Even  during  the  excitement  of 
the  rest  of  the  day  a  memory  of  the  thing  would  occur,  giv- 


332  LINCOLN 

ing  him  a  pang  as  though  something  uncomfortable  had  hap- 
pened. Much  of  the  superstition  of  pioneer  days  remained  in 
him,  and  when  the  vision  came  again  a  few  days  later,  he 
told  Mrs.  Lincoln  about  it.  She  worried  over  the  matter  no 
little. 

"Abraham,"  she  said  earnestly,  for  like  him  she  was  super- 
stitious, "it  is  a  sign  that  you  will  be  elected  to  a  second  term 
of  the  Presidency,  but  the  paleness  of  one  of  the  faces  is  an 
omen  that  you  will  not  live  through  the  last  term." 

"No,  Mary,"  replied  Lincoln.  "I  don't  think  that.  It  must 
be  an  optical  illusion  growing  out  of  the  state  of  my  nerves. 
There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  excitement,  and  I  reckon  I've 
felt  it  more  than  I  knew." 

With  the  election  of  Lincoln  Springfield  became  the  most 
famous  capital  in  the  nation,  and  crowds  thronged  its  streets  to 
catch  sight  of  the  President-elect.  The  great  men  of  the  coun- 
try jostled  shoulders  with  the  poor  and  humble,  and  Lincoln 
made  the  latter  as  welcome  as  he  did  the  former.  He  was  the 
most  important  man  on  the  continent.  It  was  hard  for  him  to 
find  time  to  arrange  his  Cabinet  appointments  and  to  write  his 
inaugural. 

Through  it  all,  however,  he  preserved  a  calm  exterior, 
though  events  were  taking  place  that  gave  him  the  most  in- 
tense anxiety.  Things  in  general  were  going  in  a  bad  way. 
The  election,  which  had  filled  the  North  with  rejoicing,  had 
exasperated  the  South  to  such  an  extent  that  shortly  there- 
after the  Gulf  States  seceded.  A  Southern  Confederacy  had 
been  formed.  Lincoln  wore  a  solemn  look  as  he  went  about  the 
city. 

In  addition  to  public  duties  there  were  private  matters  to  be 
arranged  also;  but  before  looking  after  these  latter  Lincoln 


"OLD  ABRAM  IS  THE  MAN"  333 

packed  his  carpet  bag,  and  stole  away  early  one  morning  in 
January  for  a  last  visit  to  his  step-mother  at  the  Goose  Neck 
Farm  in  Coles  County. 

Sally  Bush  Lincoln  welcomed  him  with  gladness.  He  was 
nearly  fifty-two  years  old,  but  he  would  always  be  her  boy; 
her  good  boy  who  had  never  given  her  a  cross  word  or  look. 
Now  she  held  him  close,  sobbing : 

"Oh,  Abe,  I'm  afraid  for  you.  I'm  afraid!  I  didn't  want  you 
to  run  for  President.  I  didn't  want  you  elected.  They'll  kill 
you,  Abe.  I'll  never  see  you  again!" 

"Why,  mother,  I  don't  see  why  any  one  should  wish  to 
kill  me,"  spoke  Lincoln  reassuringly.  "It  wouldn't  do  a  bit  of 
good.  There  would  be  a  Republican  President  anyway.  It 
might  as  well  be  me  as  any  other  fellow." 

So  he  talked  until  she  was  her  own  serene  self  again.  But 
he  did  not  tell  her  that  he  had  received  letters  warning  him 
that  he  would  be  killed  before  he  could  reach  Washington; 
that  his  inaugural  would  never  be  permitted ;  that  even  though 
it  should  be  he  was  facing  the  most  awful  crisis  the  Union  had 
ever  encountered. 

And  he  too  had  a  presentiment  that  he  would  never  see  her 
again.  She  was  old  and  infirm,  and  he  sighed  as  he  marked 
the  changes  in  her  appearance.  She  had  been  a  very  tall  woman, 
straight  as  an  arrow,  handsome  and  sprightly,  with  beautiful 
hair  that  curled  naturally;  she  was  now  bent  and  worn  with 
labor  and  sorrow.  So  these  two  between  whom  there  had  al- 
ways been  a  deep  and  abiding  affection  talked,  each  oppressed 
by  vague  fears  of  the  future. 

She  noticed  that  he  who,  until  recently,  had  always  been 
smooth-shaven,  now  wore  a  beard,  and  spoke  of  it.  And  he  told 
her  that  a  little  girl  had  written  to  him  saying  that  she  thought 


334  LINCOLN 

he  would  be  better  looking  if  he  would  wear  a  beard;  that  he 
had  talked  it  over  with  his  wife,  and  they  had  decided  that, 
because  of  his  long  neck,  it  might  be  well  to  follow  her  advice. 
And  did  she  like  it? 

"Well,"  she  answered  hesitatingly,  "it  makes  you  look  older, 
and  wiser,  perhaps;  but  you'll  always  be  Abe  whether  you 
wear  a  beard  or  not." 

During  his  short  stay  Lincoln  visited  the  neighboring 
country  grave-yard  where  his  father  was  buried.  There  was 
nothing  to  mark  the  grave  of  Thomas  Lincoln,  so,  on  a  piece 
of  oak  board  he  cut  the  letters  T.  L.  and  placed  it  at  the  head 
of  the  grave.  A  few  days  later  he  took  a  last  sad  farewell  of 
his  mother,  and  went  away. 

The  last  days  in  Springfield  passed  quickly.  There  were  re- 
ceptions to,  and  receptions  given  by,  the  Lincoln  family,  old 
and  young;  the  house  was  leased,  the  cow,  horse,  and  buggy 
were  sold ;  the  trunks  packed,  and  by  the  eleventh  day  of  Feb- 
ruary everything  was  in  readiness  for  the  departure  for  Wash- 
ington. 

The  day  before  leaving  Lincoln  went  to  the  law  office,  and 
sat  down  for  a  last  talk  with  Herndon.  They  spoke  of  bygone 
days  with  much  feeling.  Suddenly  Lincoln  said: 

"Billy,  how  long  have  we  been  together?" 

"Sixteen  years,  Mr.  Lincoln." 

"And  never  a  cross  word;  never  a  misunderstanding  be- 
tween us." 

"Never,"  answered  Herndon  with  emotion. 

"Keep  the  old  shingle  hanging,  Billy.  If  I  live  I  am  coming 
back,  and  we'll  go  on  together  in  the  practice  of  law  as  if 
nothing  had  ever  happened." 

The  next  morning,  the  eleventh  day  of  February,  was  the 


"OLD  ABRAM  IS  THE  MAN"  335 

time  of  departure.  Lincoln,  his  family,  and  his  suite  arrived 
early  at  the  little  brick  station  where  a  throng  of  at  least  a 
thousand  of  his  neighbors  and  friends  had  gathered  to  bid  him 
good-bye.  It  was  a  cloudy,  stormy  morning,  with  a  cold  drizzle 
of  rain  falling.  The  scene  became  one  of  solemnity  as  Lincoln 
took  a  position  in  the  waiting-room  where  his  friends  filed  past 
him,  shaking  hands,  wishing  him  luck,  and  often  merely  press- 
ing his  hand  in  silent  emotion. 

The  half-finished  ceremony  was  broken  in  upon  by  the  sig- 
nal bell  for  starting.  The  crowd  closed  about  the  railroad  car 
into  which  the  President-elect  and  his  party  made  their  way. 
Once  more  the  bell  gave  the  signal,  but  as  the  conductor 
paused  with  his  hand  lifted  to  the  bell-rope,  Lincoln  appeared 
on  the  back  platform  of  the  car,  and  raised  his  hand  for  silence. 
The  people  bared  their  heads  to  the  soft  drizzle  of  the  rain,  and 
standing  thus,  his  friends  and  neighbors  heard  his  voice  for 
the  last  time : 

"My  friends,  no  one  not  in  my  situation,  can  appreciate  my 
feeling  of  sadness  at  this  parting.  To  this  place,  and  the  kind- 
ness of  these  people,  I  owe  everything.  Here  I  have  lived  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  and  have  passed  from  a  young  to  an  old 
man.  Here  my  children  have  been  born,  and  one  is  buried.  I 
now  leave,  not  knowing  when  or  whether  ever  I  may  return, 
with  a  task  before  me  greater  than  that  which  rested  upon 
Washington.  Without  the  assistance  of  that  Divine  Being  who 
ever  attended  him,  I  cannot  succeed.  With  that  assistance,  I 
cannot  fail.  Trusting  in  Him,  who  can  go  with  me,  and  remain 
with  you,  and  be  everywhere  for  good,  let  us  confidently  hope 
that  all  will  yet  be  well.  To  His  care  commending  you,  as  I 
hope  in  your  prayers  you  will  commend  me,  I  bid  you  an  affec- 
tionate farewell." 


336  LINCOLN 

The  train  started,  rolled  away,  and  the  mist  closed  about 
it  hiding  him  from  the  sight  of  his  weeping  fellow  townsmen. 

The  years  of  preparation  were  ended ;  the  time  of  fulfillment 
had  come. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVEN 


THE    BREAKING    OF    THE    STORM 


The  journey  from  Springfield  to  Washington  extended 
over  a  period  of  two  weeks,  and  was  a  series  of  ovations.  Some 
time  before  leaving  Springfield  Lincoln  had  received  many  in- 
vitations from  the  Legislatures  of  several  States  asking  him  to 
visit  their  capitals  on  his  journey  to  Washington.  Believing 
that  it  would  not  only  be  gracious  to  accept  these  invitations, 
but  also  be  the  means  of  establishing  more  sympathetic  rela- 
tions between  him  and  the  people,  he  consented  to  visit  the 
cities  of  Indianapolis,  Columbus,  Cincinnati,  Cleveland,  Pitts- 
burgh, Buffalo,  Albany,  Trenton,  Philadelphia,  and  Harris- 
burg. 

With  receptions,  handshakings,  speechifying  at  all  cere- 
monies, salutes,  cheers,  military  parades  and  imposing  proces- 
sions the  journey  was  like  a  triumphal  progress.  It  was  over 
at  length,  and  he  arrived  in  Washington  on  the  morning  of  the 
twenty-third  of  February,  and  was  installed  in  the  spacious 
parlors  on  the  second  floor  of  Willard's  Hotel,  fronting  on 
Pennsylvania  Avenue.  There  was  but  little  more  than  a  week 
to  prepare  for  the  inauguration,  and  this  time  Lincoln  par- 

337 


338  LINCOLN 

tially  gave  up  to  paying  ceremonial  calls  upon  the  outgoing 
President  and  his  Cabinet,  to  the  two  Houses  of  Congress,  and 
to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States.  The  rest  of  the 
time  was  taken  up  by  the  immediate  business  that  would  follow 
his  inauguration. 

Inauguration  Day,  the  Fourth  of  March,  fell  upon  Monday, 
and  was  a  bright  and  beautiful  day.  After  his  duties  at  the 
closing  session  of  Congress  were  over  President  Buchanan, 
accompanied  by  the  Senate  Committee  of  Arrangements, 
drove  to  Willard's  Hotel,  called  upon  the  President-elect, 
conducted  him  to  the  waiting  carriage,  in  which,  side  by  side, 
they  rode  between  double  files  of  a  squadron  of  cavalry,  along 
Pennsylvania  Avenue  to  the  Capitol.  Every  one  felt  that 
another  war  was  impending,  and  as  the  atmosphere  was  at  high 
tension,  and  there  had  been  rumors  of  plots  to  assassinate  the 
President-elect,  the  utmost  precautions  had  been  taken  to  in- 
sure public  order  and  the  safety  of  all  concerned  in  the  cere- 
monies. The  inauguration  was  to  take  place  on  a  platform  con- 
structed at  the  east  front  of  the  Capitol  overlooking  a  large 
and  open  esplanade  where  an  immense  throng  of  people  stood 
in  waiting. 

When  the  cheers  which  greeted  the  appearance  of  the  Presi- 
dential party  had  abated,  Senator  Baker,  of  Oregon,  a  be- 
loved friend  of  Lincoln,  rose  and  introduced  the  President- 
elect to  the  audience.  The  President-elect  stepped  forward, 
hat  in  hand,  and  glanced  about  for  some  place  to  put  it.  His 
eye  happened  to  catch  that  of  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  who 
smiled,  and  immediately  reached  forward  and  took  the  hat 
which  he  held  while  Lincoln  delivered  his  inaugural  oration. 
It  was  a  noble  act,  one  which  showed  Douglas  to  be  a  true  gen- 
tleman. Lincoln  bowed  his  thanks  as  he  stepped  forward  to 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  STORM         339 

read  his  inaugural.  His  self-possession  was  perfect.  His  voice 
was  firm  and  resonant,  quite  reaching  the  outer  fringes  of 
the  vast  crowd  in  front.  His  expression  was  serious  to  the 
point  of  gravity. 

The  inaugural  was  a  model  of  a  reasoning,  moderate,  and 
conciliatory  address.  In  common  with  many  others  Lincoln 
hoped  that  war  would  be  averted  and  that  the  South  would 
return  peaceably  to  its  allegiance  to  the  Union.  In  closing  he 
said: 

"In  your  hands,  my  dissatisfied  fellow  countrymen,  and  not 
in  mine,  is  the  momentous  issue  of  civil  war.  The  government 
will  not  assail  you.  You  can  have  no  conflict  without  being 
yourselves  the  aggressors.  You  have  no  oath  registered  in 
Heaven  to  destroy  the  government,  while  I  have  the  most 
solemn  one  to  'preserve,  protect,  and  defend'  it. 

"I  am  loath  to  close.  We  are  not  enemies  but  friends.  We 
must  not  be  enemies.  Though  passion  may  have  strained,  it 
must  not  break  our  bonds  of  affection.  The  mystic  cords  of 
memory,  stretching  from  every  battle-field  and  patriotic  grave 
to  every  living  heart  and  hearthstone  all  over  this  broad  land, 
will  yet  swell  the  chorus  of  the  Union,  when  again  touched,  as 
surely  they  will  be,  by  the  better  angels  of  our  nature." 

Great  cheering  greeted  the  conclusion.  Chief-Justice  Taney 
arose,  the  Clerk  opened  the  Bible,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  it, 
Abraham  Lincoln  took  the  oath  as  President  of  the  United 
States. 

The  broad  battery  upon  the  brow  of  the  hill  that  com- 
manded both  the  approach  and  the  esplanade  before  the  east 
front  thundered  its  salute,  and  the  ex-President  Buchanan  and 
President  Lincoln  returned  to  their  carriage,  and  the  military 
procession  escorted  them  from  the  Capitol  to  the  Executive 


340  LINCOLN 

Mansion.  Here  Mr.  Buchanan  warmly  shook  hands  with  his 
successor,  and  with  many  heartfelt  wishes  for  his  personal  hap- 
j^iness  and  the  national  peace  and  prosperity  took  his  leave. 

The  first  duty  of  the  President  was  the  formation  of  his 
Cabinet.  He  had  already  made  his  selections  and  all  that  re- 
mained was  to  formally  designate  them,  and  have  them  con- 
firmed by  the  Senate.  The  men  who  had  been  his  rivals  for 
the  Presidency  were  those  whom  he  made  the  heads  of  his 
executive  household. 

The  day  after  the  Senate  confirmed  these  nominations  Lin- 
coln called  them  together  for  an  informal  meeting.  From  that 
time  forth  he  had  almost  daily  meetings  with  them;  for  his 
first  Presidential  footsteps  were  treading  upon  the  borders  of 
war — the  like  of  which  had  never  before  been  seen ;  the  end  of 
which  only  God  could  foresee.  But  he  was  not  daunted,  though 
the  affairs  of  the  country  were  in  a  bad  way. 

The  Confederacy  had  been  organized  and  in  peaceful  con- 
trol of  its  territory  for  two  months.  There  was  no  disposition 
in  the  North  to  coerce  it,  except  among  a  minority.  The  pre- 
dominating sentiment  was  that  nothing  could  be  done ;  that  the 
South  was  acting  within  its  rights  however  much  it  was  to  be 
regretted.  There  were  many  Northerners  who  believed  with  the 
South  that  the  Union  was  not  a  nation,  but  a  partnership  from 
which  any  of  the  partners  had  a  right  to  withdraw  whenever  it 
saw  fit.  If  Lincoln  had  fired  on  the  Confederacy  half  of  the 
North  would  have  risen  against  him.  Therefore,  with  far-seeing 
wisdom,  he  laid  upon  the  South  the  responsibility  of  beginning 
the  war,  if  war  it  was  to  be. 

Of  all  the  forts  which  the  nation  had  placed  on  the  Southern 
coast,  few  remained  to  it.  These  were  the  forts  near  Key  West, 
Fortress  Monroe  at  the  mouth  of  Chesapeake  Bay,  Fort  Pick- 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  STORM  341 

ens  at  Pensacola,  and  Fort  Sumter  in  Charleston  Harbor. 
Both  the  last  named  were  beleaguered  by  hostile  batteries.  But 
the  attention  of  the  whole  country,  North  and  South,  was  cen- 
tred upon  Fort  Sumter  where  Major  Robert  Anderson  was 
in  command  of  a  very  small  force  of  United  States  troops.  If 
it  were  to  be  held  it  would  have  to  be  reinforced,  and  pro- 
visioned which  would  be  no  easy  task,  surrounded  as  it  was  by 
the  batteries  of  the  Confederates,  and  Lincoln  conferred  daily 
with  his  Cabinet  as  to  the  best  policy  to  pursue  towards  it. 
General  Scott  advised  its  abandonment  as  a  military  necessity, 
but  there  were  others  who  demanded  that  it  should  be  held  at 
all  hazards. 

Lincoln  studied  possible  plans  of  relief;  studied  also  the 
strength  of  his  army  and  navy,  enrolled  militia  for  the  de- 
fense of  Washington,  and  quietly  made  other  preparations  for 
action.  At  length,  on  the  sixth  of  April,  he  gave  the  final  order 
that  an  expedition  should  sail  to  strengthen  and  provision  Fort 
Sumter. 

Secession  had  taken  away  many  of  the  men  who  had  for 
years  managed  the  Federal  Government,  and  who  understood 
its  workings.  Hundreds  of  clerks  and  many  officers  of  high 
grade  and  function  had  resigned.  These  places  had  to  be  filled, 
and  Lincoln  set  himself  to  the  work  of  making  appointments. 
He  had  not  much  time  for  politics,  yet  he  realized  that  he  must 
give  his  attention  to  his  appointments  or  the  administration 
would  suffer.  The  White  House  was  filled  with  office-seekers. 
They  fairly  besieged  him;  waylaying  him  in  the  corridors,  on 
the  staircases,  in  the  grounds.  They  thronged  the  anteroom  to 
his  office  from  early  morn  until  dewy  eve,  and  sought  him 
out  in  every  available  place  until  they  finally  got  upon  his 
nerves. 


342  LINCOLN 

"I  am  like  a  man  so  busy  letting  rooms  in  one  end  of  his 
house  that  he  cannot  stop  to  put  out  a  fire  that  is  burning  the 
other,"  he  commented  plaintively  to  his  friends. 

At  this  juncture  came  the  news  that  ended  the  period  of 
breathless  waiting  of  what  would  come  next.  The  Confederates 
had  taken  the  official  information  that  supplies  were  to  be  sent 
to  Fort  Sumter  as  an  overt  act,  and  General  Beauregard  was 
commanded  to  take  the  fort.  Accordingly  he  sent  a  demand  to 
Major  Anderson  for  the  surrender  of  the  fort,  which  Ander- 
son promptly  refused.  Beauregard  gave  him  an  hour  for  con- 
sideration, and  then  began  the  bombardment.  It  was  Satur- 
day, the  thirteenth  of  April,  that  the  newspapers  contained  the 
startling  headlines  announcing  the  beginning  of  hostilities. 

Every  heart  was  shocked  and  thrilled  by  the  announcement. 
It  was  War.  Business  was  suspended,  and  men,  women,  and 
children  flocked  to  the  telegraph  and  newspaper  offices  to  get 
the  latest  news,  and  to  stand  about  in  groups  to  talk  over  the 
intelligence. 

But,  while  the  Sumter  telegrams  were  on  every  tongue,  and 
excitement  reigned  supreme  throughout  the  city  and  the  na- 
tion, Lincoln  made  little  variation  in  the  routine  of  the  Exec- 
utive office.  He  was  never  liable  to  sudden  excitement;  his 
personal  manner  was  one  of  steadiness  of  word  and  act.  He 
said  little  beyond  making  inquiries  about  current  reports  and 
commenting  upon  the  probabilities  of  their  details. 

The  news  that  came  the  next  morning,  however,  put  a  new 
face  on  the  matter.  Sumter  had  fallen.  The  tidings  spread  over 
the  land  as  fire  sweeps  the  prairie  in  a  wind.  It  was  Sunday, 
but  the  churches  were  forsaken,  and  the  opening  of  War  was 
the  only  topic  of  conversation.  Lincoln  called  his  Cabinet  to- 
gether at  once. 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  STORM         343 

"They  leave  us  no  choice  but  to  fight,"  he  said  sadly;  "so 
I  have  drawn  up  a  Proclamation  calling  for  troops." 

With  this  he  submitted  a  Proclamation  calling  for  seventy- 
five  thousand  militia  for  three  months,  and  convening  Congress 
in  an  extra  session  on  the  coming  Fourth  of  July.  It  was  con- 
curred in  by  all  the  members,  and  was  copied  on  the  spot  by  his 
secretary,  signed,  and  sent  to  the  State  Department  to  be 
sealed,  filed,  and  copied  for  publication  in  the  next  morning's 
newspapers. 

There  followed  a  general  stampede  from  Washington.  The 
Southern  Senators  and  citizens  holding  public  office  left  their 
resignations  and  went  home.  It  was  a  sad,  busy  day  for  Lin- 
coln. In  the  evening  he  sat  in  the  Executive  office  alone,  a  prey 
to  melancholy.  He  did  not  know  how  the  Call  to  Arms  would 
be  received.  He  believed  wholly  in  the  loyalty  of  the  people, 
but  there  had  been  much  uneasiness  among  them  during  the 
winter ;  a  disposition  to  concede  anything  to  the  South  to  avert 
war.  Would  the  firing  on  the  nation's  flag  find  them  still  averse 
to  coercion?  Would  their  attachment  to  the  Union  be  strong 
enough  for  them  to  fight  to  sustain  it?  He  was  soon  to  learn 
that  his  forbearance  towards  the  South  had  been  wise ;  for  now 
a  universal  burst  of  patriotic  fervor  swept  the  North  at  the 
firing  on  Fort  Sumter.  It  needed  just  that  to  sweep  away  all 
party  lines  and  unite  the  people  in  one  common  purpose.  He 
was  to  learn  that  the  weak  federation  of  States  which  had  ex- 
isted in  the  time  of  the  founders  had  become  a  mighty  nation. 
With  immigration  the  population  of  the  North  had  increased 
enormously,  and  the  immigrants  had  become  citizens,  not 
of  any  one  State,  but  of  the  United  States.  The  State  Sover- 
eignty, which  animated  the  South, — which  had  few  immi- 
grants,— had  grown  weak  in  the  North  where  the  railroad  had 


344  LINCOLN 

abolished  State  lines,  and  machinery  and  immigration  had 
made  a  nation.  And  Lincoln,  sitting  alone  in  his  office,  facing 
the  dark  shadow  that  hung  over  the  nation,  vowed  a  solemn 
vow,  that  come  what  would,  he  would  save  the  Union ;  that  by 
every  means  in  his  power  he  would  strive  for  a  united  country. 

In  the  midst  of  these  conclusions  Colonel  John  Nicolay,  his 
private  secretary,  entered  the  room. 

"Mr.  Ashmum  and  Senator  Douglas  are  in  the  anteroom, 
sir.  They  wish  to  see  you." 

"Senator  Douglas?"  repeated  Lincoln  in  surprise.  "Why, 
he  has  been  fighting  the  Administration  ever  since  the  inau- 
guration. What  can  he  want?" 

"They  did  not  say,  sir.  Merely  that  it  was  important." 

"Show  them  in,  John.  I  am  always  glad  to  see  Ashmum, 
and  Douglas  does  liven  up  a  fellow.  Gentlemen,"  going  for- 
ward with  extended  hands  as  Nicolay  ushered  in  Mr.  Ashmum 
and  Senator  Douglas,  "this  is  an  unexpected  honor.  Be  seated, 
and  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  then  Douglas  spoke : 

"Mr.  President,  this  morning  there  came  the  news  of  the 
fall  of  Fort  Sumter.  It  has  roused  me  as  nothing  else  could 
do;  and  I  have  come  to  offer  you  my  sympathy  and  support 
in  the  war  that  must  follow  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union." 

Lincoln  started  up  in  quick  excitement. 

"Do  you  mean  that,  Douglas?"  he  asked. 

"With  all  my  heart,"  answered  Douglas  earnestly.  "Po- 
litically, of  course,  I  don't  agree  with  you,  and  never  shall. 
But  when  it  comes  to  preserving  the  Union  I  am  with  you  body 
and  soul.  I  will  do  everything  in  my  power  to  help  you." 

Lincoln  leaned  forward  and  took  his  hand  in  both  his  own. 

"There  isn't  anybody  whose  aid  I'd  rather  have,"  he  de- 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  STORM         345 

clared  with  emotion.  "Why,  you  can  be  of  the  greatest  service. 
A  word  from  you  to  the  Democrats  of  the  North,  and  they 
will  unite  solidly  in  the  support  of  the  Administration.  And  we 
are  going  to  need  the  help  of  every  man  in  the  North  if  we 
put  down  the  poison  of  Secession/' 

"Yes,"  said  Douglas.  "We  will." 

The  lifelong  antagonists  clasped  hands.  For  once  they  were 
united  in  heart  and  purpose.  Mr.  Ashmum  watched  the  scene 
with  emotion.  After  a  moment  Lincoln  took  up  a  copy  of  his 
Proclamation,  and  read  it  to  them. 

"Mr.  President,"  said  Douglas,  "I  cordially  concur  in  every 
word  of  that  document,  except  that  instead  of  the  call  for 
seventy-five  thousand  men  I  would  call  for  two  hundred  thou- 
sand." 

And  so  these  two  former  rivals  talked,  and  Douglas  gave 
Lincoln  many  suggestions  of  practical  value,  and  when  at 
length  Mr.  Ashmum  and  the  Senator  took  their  departure 
they  left  a  cheered  and  strengthened  man  behind  them.  There 
was  a  warm  glow  at  Lincoln's  heart  as  he  went  to  the  family 
apartment  from  the  office.  Well  he  knew  how  much  it  had  cost 
the  proud  Douglas  to  humble  himself  as  he  had  to  do  to  come 
to  him.  He  remembered  that  Douglas  was  an  ambitious  man, 
that  he  was  a  sadly  disappointed  man,  that  he  himself  occu- 
pied the  chair  to  which  Douglas  had  aspired  so  many  years. 
But  everything  had  been  subordinated  to  his  devotion  to  his 
country.  Lincoln's  heart  glowed  with  admiration  and  tender- 
ness. What  Douglas  had  done,  others  would  do. 

After  leaving  the  President  Mr.  Ashmum  said: 

"You  have  done  justice  to  your  own  reputation,  and  to  the 
President,  Mr.  Douglas,  and  the  country  must  know  it.  The 
Proclamation  will  go  by  telegraph  all  over  the  country  in  the 


346  LINCOLN 

morning,  and  the  account  of  this  interview  must  go  with  it.  I 
shall  send  it  either  in  my  own  language  or  yours.  I  prefer  that 
you  should  give  your  own  version." 

"I  will  write  it,"  replied  Douglas.  So,  as  the  people  of  the 
country  read  Lincoln's  Proclamation  calling  for  seventy-five 
thousand  men  to  come  to  the  aid  of  the  nation,  they  read  also 
of  Douglas's  interview  with  the  President  and  the  pledge  of 
his  support.  As  was  expected  it  helped  to  swell  the  tide  of 
loyal  sentiment  that  was  rising  among  all  parties  and  classes 
to  its  flood. 

From  this  time  forth  Douglas  devoted  himself  to  the  in- 
terests of  the  nation  with  unwearied  devotion.  He  put  down 
his  ambition  for  himself  and  set  up  instead  his  ambition  for 
his  country.  During  the  following  month  he  spoke  to  large 
meetings  of  Union  men,  urging  such  measures  as  would 
strengthen  the  hands  of  the  government.  "We  should  never 
forget  that  a  man  cannot  be  a  true  Democrat  unless  he  is  a 
loyal  patriot,"  was  one  of  his  utterances.  Towards  the  end  of 
May  he  sickened  and  died  on  June  Third.  Lincoln  felt  his 
death  keenly. 

The  Proclamation  was  issued  on  the  Fifteenth  of  April,  and 
was  received  with  the  utmost  excitement.  The  great  struggle 
between  slavery  and  the  country  had  come  at  last.  The  response 
from  the  North  to  the  call  was  immediate. 

Within  forty-eight  hours  after  the  Call  was  published  the 
Massachusetts  Sixth  Regiment  was  on  its  way  to  the  Capital. 
In  passing  through  Baltimore,  however,  a  mob  attacked  it, 
and  several  of  its  men  were  killed  and  wounded ;  the  first  blood 
shed  in  the  war.  There  were  no  casualties  at  Sumter.  Then,  so 
that  no  more  troops  could  be  sent  through  the  city,  the  mob 
burned  the  bridges  north  of  Baltimore,  rousing  the  North  to 


THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  STORM         347 

fury.  Meantime,  Virginia  seceded,  and  on  the  nineteenth  of 
April  Lincoln  issued  another  Proclamation,  declaring  the 
ports  of  the  seceded  States  in  a  state  of  blockade  and  closed 
against  the  commerce  of  the  world. 

The  most  dreadful  of  all  Civil  Wars  had  begun. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHT 


FATHER   ABRAHAM 


The  riot  at  Baltimore  with  the  burning  of  the  bridges  and 
the  breaking  up  of  the  railway  precipitated  a  panic  in  Wash- 
ington. Those  who  were  not  residents  became  possessed  of  an 
uncontrollable  desire  to  get  away,  and  the  Capital  was  soon  de- 
nuded of  its  redundant  population. 

The  city  was  in  grave  danger  of  attack.  Virginia  was  in 
arms  on  one  side,  Maryland  on  the  other.  The  one  hope  of 
saving  it  lay  in  the  swift  assembling  of  the  Eastern  militia. 
Which  would  be  the  first  to  reach  it — Federals  or  Con- 
federates? It  was  no  wonder  that  gloom  and  despondency  lay 
over  the  city,  paralyzing  its  traffic,  and  crushing  out  its  life. 
Rumors  of  all  sorts  were  rife.  Nearly  all  business  was  at  a 
standstill,  and  theatres  and  places  of  amusement  were  closed. 
The  only  movements  seen  upon  the  streets  were  those  of  a 
military  nature. 

Rut  through  all  the  tense  anxiety  of  that  week  Lincoln  was 
not  daunted.  He  held  his  faith  that  the  troops  would  come 
when  they  could;  though  sometimes,  after  the  business  of  the 
day  was  over  and  the  Executive  office  deserted,  he  would  walk 
the  floor  in  silent  thought,  stopping  often  to  gaze  long  and 


348 


"FATHER  ABRAHAM"  349 

wistfully  out  of  the  window  down  the  Potomac  in  the  direction 
of  the  expected  ships.  For,  the  railways  being  destroyed,  the 
Union  troops  were  compelled  to  go  around  Baltimore  by  sea. 
A  patient  sadness  grew  in  his  manner,  a  deeper  melancholy 
dwelt  in  his  countenance,  but  in  the  midst  of  the  panic  and 
varying  counsels  he  showed  no  fear. 

And  then,  on  the  Twenty-fifth  of  April,  as  though  to  justify 
his  hope,  the  Seventh  Regiment  of  New  York  arrived.  In  an 
hour  the  paralyzed  city  recovered  its  health  and  cheerfulness. 
Cheer  upon  cheer  greeted  the  young  men  as  they  swung  up 
Pennsylvania  Avenue,  with  gaily  floating  flags,  and  the  in- 
spiring music  of  their  regimental  band.  Doors  were  opened, 
windows  thrown  up,  and  the  people  came  forth  upon  the  streets 
as  for  a  holiday. 

By  the  first  of  June,  there  was  camped  or  billeted  about 
Washington  the  cream  of  the  State  soldiery  from  every  Com- 
monwealth east  of  the  Ohio  and  north  of  the  Potomac — except 
Maryland.  But  it  was  a  motley  concourse,  which  would  take 
time  to  discipline  and  train.  The  call  for  seventy-five  thou- 
sand militia  for  three  months  was  quickly  followed  by  a  call 
for  a  hundred  thousand  volunteers  for  three  years;  and  such 
was  the  spirit  and  enthusiasm  of  the  people  that  the  demand 
was  answered  to  excess.  They  came  dustily  forth  from  the 
troop  trains  and  went  trudging  along  the  length  of  Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue,  and  out  to  the  waiting  camps  in  the  suburbs, 
singing  as  they  marched  the  most  popular  song  of  the  day 

"We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,  three  hundred  thousand  more, 
From  Mississippi's  winding  stream  and  from  New  England's  shore ; 
We  leave  our  plows  and  workshops,  our  wives  and  children  dear, 
With  hearts  too  full  for  utterance,  with  but  a  single  tear, 
We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,  three  hundred  thousand  more  !" 


350  LINCOLN 

As  Lincoln  listened  to  "his  boys,"  for  so  he  already  called 
them,  a  mighty  resolve  filled  his  heart.  They  were  come  to  lay 
down  their  young  lives  for  a  cause  that  he  had  told  them  was 
holy.  He  resolved  that  the  sacrifice  should  not  be  in  vain ;  that 
at  whatever  cost  the  Union  should  be  preserved. 

With  a  promptitude  unknown  before  in  modern  history,  the 
people  sprang  to  arms.  Indeed,  so  eager  were  they  to  furnish 
men  and  supplies  that  they  became  at  once  impatient  for  re- 
sults. There  was  on  both  sides  a  belief  that  the  war  would  be  a 
short  one.  The  South,  believing  that  one  Southerner  was  equal 
to  five  Yankees,  expected  that  a  few  victories  would  establish 
its  independence.  The  North,  regarding  secession  as  little  more 
than  a  great  riot,  entertained  the  equally  erroneous  impression 
that  it  could  be  extinguished  in  ninety  days. 

Lincoln  had  a  better  and  clearer  appreciation  of  the  task. 
While  discussing  the  proclamation  calling  for  volunteers  with 
his  Cabinet,  one  of  the  members  made  a  disparaging  contrast 
of  Southern  enterprise  with  the  Northern. 

"We  must  not  forget,"  said  Lincoln,  "that  the  people  of 
the  seceded  States,  like  those  of  the  loyal  ones,  are  American 
citizens,  with  essentially  the  same  characteristics  and  powers. 
Exceptional  advantages  on  one  side  are  counterbalanced  by 
exceptional  advantages  on  the  other.  We  must  make  up  our 
minds  that  man  for  man  the  soldier  from  the  South  will  be  a 
match  for  the  soldier  from  the  North;  and  vice  versa." 

But  the  people,  the  press,  and  the  Congress,  which  had  as- 
sembled according  to  proclamation,  all  clamored  for  a  battle — 
a  battle  which  would  put  down  the  rebellion  promptly  and 
decisively.  There  had  already  been  some  skirmishing,  and  some 
substantial  advantages  had  been  gained  by  the  North ;  but  they 
were  not  of  a  sufficiently  brilliant  character  fully  to  satisfy  the 


FATHER  ABRAHAM"  351 

expectation  of  the  excited  people.  Therefore,  the  government 
unwisely  yielded  to  the  pressure,  and  ordered  their  imperfectly 
trained  troops  to  advance  and  attack  the  Confederates,  assem- 
bled at  Manassas  Junction,  on  Bull  Run. 

The  army  began  its  march  to  Bull  Run  on  the  Nineteenth  of 
July,  but  it  was  not  until  the  Twenty-first  that  Lincoln  heard 
the  result.  During  these  days  he  had  walked  back  and  forth 
between  the  White  House  and  the  War  Department  to  hear 
whatever  news  might  come  from  the  field.  Not  at  this  time,  nor 
through  the  entire  period  of  the  war,  did  the  White  House  have 
telegraph  communications,  and  whenever  Lincoln  wished  to 
hear  from  his  armies  in  the  field,  or  to  send  orders  or  inquiries 
to  the  commanders  at  the  front,  he  would  walk  over  to  the  War 
Department  Building. 

He  was  much  depressed  as  he  heard  what  had  happened  at 
Bull  Run.  The  Federal  army  moved  against  the  Confederates 
with  a  force  about  equal  in  numbers.  At  first,  the  attack  of  the 
Union  forces  against  their  foe  was  successful,  but,  after  a 
long  hard  day  of  fighting,  reinforcements  came  to  the  aid  of 
the  Confederates,  and  the  tide  of  battle  turned  in  their  favor. 
The  Federals,  wearied  with  long  fighting,  could  not  endure  the 
vehemence  of  the  new  attack.  They  had  fought  bravely  and 
well,  but  now  they  broke  and  fled  in  wild  disorder.  Inexperi- 
enced troops  in  retreat  soon  degenerate  into  a  panic-stricken 
mass  of  men,  and  such  these  now  became.  In  a  few  hours  the 
army  upon  which  Lincoln  and  the  people  had  built  such  high 
hopes  was  pouring  into  Washington,  bringing  wild  and  alarm- 
ing stories  of  the  rout,  and  crying  that  the  Capital  would  be 
taken  as  the  Confederates  were  in  full  pursuit. 

Lincoln  heard  the  news  with  keen  distress.  He  felt  the  bur- 
den of  it  all  upon  his  own  shoulders.  It  was  with  worn  and 


352  LINCOLN 

haggard  face  that  he  entered  the  Executive  office  and  sat  down 
at  his  desk. 

"Mr.  President,"  spoke  Colonel  Nicolay  who  was  much  dis- 
turbed by  the  intelligence  that  the  Confederates  were  advanc- 
ing upon  the  Capital,  "the  fugitives  from  the  army  report 
that  the  Confederates  are  coming  towards  the  city  in  full 
force.  Don't  you  believe  that  you  would  better  go  to  An- 
napolis for  a  time?  It  would  not  do  for  our  President  to  be 
captured." 

Lincoln  smiled  wanly. 

"Neither  would  it  do  for  him  to  run  away,  John.  A  captain 
never  leaves  his  ship  when  it  is  in  danger.  I  reckon  I'll  stay 
with  the  old  boat." 

"But  what  about  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  the  boys?  Are  they 
to  stay  too?" 

"They  say  so.  I  just  looked  in  on  them  to  suggest  that  it 
might  be  better  for  them  to  go  somewhere  until  after  the  battle 
— if  there  be  one — to  take  the  city.  They  were  quite  indignant 
at  the  mere  idea  of  it.  Mary  said  that  she  would  never  leave 
me,  and  the  boys  said  they  could  look  after  mother.  So  there 
you  are.  This  is  a  bad  business,  John." 

"It  is  indeed,  sir." 

"I  fear  the  effect  on  the  people,"  spoke  Lincoln  musingly. 
"They  are  unaccustomed  to  war,  and  the  list  of  killed  and 
wounded  will  seem  most  dreadful  and  gory.  It  has  been  a 
needless  sacrifice  of  life.  I  fear  too  the  effect  of  victory  on  the 
South.  The  Southerners  will  be  so  elated  with  this  first  great 
success  that  they  will  keep  on  in  the  error  of  their  ways.  And 
I  wanted  them  to  come  back  home,  and  behave  themselves. 
Now  it  will  postpone  their  coming  for  no  telling  how  long."  He 
fell  into  melancholic  reflection. 


FATHER  ABRAHAM"  353 

But  after  all  the  Confederates  did  not  follow  up  their  ad- 
vantage, and  Washington,  then  at  their  mercy,  was  not  at- 
tacked. 

It  was  the  first  real  battle  of  the  war,  and  its  results  were 
of  the  greatest  importance.  Both  sides  recognized  the  magni- 
tude of  the  undertaking;  the  indomitable  resolution  of  their 
opponents,  and  the  need  of  thoroughly  disciplining  their 
troops. 

It  followed  that  while  there  was  much  skirmishing  going 
on  during  the  rest  of  the  year,  with  few  real  battles,  there  was 
no  forward  movement  made.  It  was  a  trial  of  bravery  and 
strategy  in  which  both  sides  were  learning  how  to  fight. 

But  the  United  States  Navy  had  been  increased  from  forty- 
two  vessels  at  the  beginning  of  the  war  to  about  three  hundred 
by  the  close  of  this  preparatory  period.  These  served  to  en- 
force the  blockade  of  the  South,  which  was  the  first  step  in 
the  great  plan  that  was  to  crush  the  Confederacy. 

With  the  beginning  of  the  New  Year  the  war  began  to  be 
pushed  with  vigor  both  in  the  Mississippi  Valley  and  in  Vir- 
ginia. While  the  country  was  rejoicing  over  the  victories  of 
Fort  Henry  and  Fort  Donelson,  Lincoln  was  facing  a  great 
sorrow.  Early  in  February,  Willie  and  Tad,  his  younger  boys, 
became  ill.  He  could  never  see  suffering  without  a  great  yearn- 
ing to  relieve  it.  Especially  was  he  moved  by  the  distress  of  a 
child.  As  has  been  said,  he  was  a  tender  father,  and  the  suffer- 
ing of  his  children  filled  him  with  intense  anguish.  Every  mo- 
ment that  he  could  slip  away  from  his  duties  he  spent  in  the 
sick  room,  and  during  the  last  four  or  five  days  of  Willie's  life 
Lincoln  watched  with  the  nurse  by  his  boy's  bedside.  When  the 
boy  died,  on  February  20th,  he  was  almost  prostrated  with 
grief. 


354  LINCOLN 

"This  is  hard,  hard!  Why  must  it  be?"  questioned  Lincoln 
over  and  over,  in  heartbroken  woe. 

But  he  did  not  long  give  way  to  his  sorrow.  There  were  pub- 
lic duties  to  attend  to,  and  the  affairs  of  the  country  could  not 
long  be  neglected.  Moreover,  he  was  now  father  to  the  boys 
of  the  nation  who  needed  his  care  and  attention.  And  with  a 
greater  compassion  than  ever  Lincoln  looked  after  them.  His 
sympathetic  heart  bled  for  the  hardships  and  woes  which  they 
endured.  If  any  one  of  them  was  in  need  of  mercy  and  for- 
giveness and  there  was  any  excuse  for  granting  it,  he  did  not 
ask  in  vain. 

But  the  thing  that  most  worried  him — that  caused  him  to 
lose  sleep  nights — was  the  power  of  life  and  death  in  the  court- 
martial  cases  from  the  army.  Every  death  sentence  must  be 
reviewed  and  passed  upon  by  the  President.  This  was  a  duty 
he  would  not  delegate  to  any  one.  The  mighty  compassion  that 
filled  his  great  soul  made  his  pen  falter  when  it  came  to  sign- 
ing his  name  to  a  paper  that  meant  death  to  a  fellow  man. 
Lincoln  had  great  powers  conferred  upon  him  during  the  war, 
and  again  and  again  he  abused  them  on  the  side  of  mercy,  but 
not  otherwise. 

On  one  occasion,  when  there  were  a  number  of  deserters 
sentenced  by  court-martial  to  be  shot,  the  warrants  were  sent 
to  him  to  be  signed.  He  refused.  The  officer  in  command  came 
on  to  Washington  to  interview  him.  He  said : 

"Mr.  President,  unless  these  men  are  made  an  example  of, 
the  army  itself  is  in  danger.  Mercy  to  the  few  is  cruelty  to  the 
many." 

"Mr.  General,"  replied  Lincoln,  "there  are  already  too  many 
weeping  widows  in  the  United  States.  Don't  ask  me  to  add  to 
the  number;  for  I  won't  do  it." 


"FATHER  ABRAHAM"  355 

This  sentimentalism  of  Lincoln's  was  severely  criticised  by 
the  military  commanders.  But,  after  all,  that  sentimentalism 
was  the  key  to  Lincoln's  strength.  His  sympathy  was  more  po- 
tent than  military  discipline.  For  the  soldiers  adored  him.  He 
was  to  them  the  embodiment  of  the  Cause  for  which  they  were 
fighting.  His  appearance  in  camp  or  on  review  was  always  a 
signal  for  eruptions  of  enthusiasm.  They  never  thought  of  him 
as  President  Lincoln.  To  them  he  was  Father  Abraham,  or 
simply  "Old  Abe." 

During  all  the  operations  of  the  years  1861  and  '62  the  ques- 
tion of  slavery  was  an  ever-present  one.  As  the  Northern 
armies  forced  their  way  southward,  escaped  slaves  flocked  to 
them  in  great  numbers.  They  were  willing  to  fight,  or  to  per- 
form any  labor,  if  they  would  be  received,  and  not  returned 
to  their  owners.  What  to  do  with  them  was  a  problem.  They 
could  not  be  armed,  and  the  North  still  held  that  whatever 
was  sanctioned  by  the  Constitution  should  not  be  interfered 
with. 

All  his  life  Lincoln  had  hated  slavery.  "If  slavery  be  not 
wrong,  then  nothing  is  wrong,"  he  declared.  But  he  was  bound 
by  his  oath  of  office  to  stand  by  the  Constitution.  His  duty  as 
President  was  not  to  destroy  slavery,  but  to  save  the  Union. 
And  he  said  to  his  critics : 

"If  I  could  save  the  Union  without  freeing  any  slave,  I 
would  do  it ;  if  I  could  save  it  by  freeing  all  the  slaves,  I  would 
do  it ;  and  if  I  could  save  it  by  freeing  some  and  leaving  others 
alone,  I  would  do  it." 

But  war  changes  opinions.  Lincoln  had  always  believed  that 
a  time  would  come  when  slavery  would  be  abolished  in  the 
whole  Union,  and  he  had  determined  that  it  should  come  just 
as  soon  as  he  could  justify  it  to  his  own  conscience  and  to  his- 


350  LINCOLN 

tory  as  a  military  necessity.  In  no  other  event  could  he  take 
such  a  step  consistently  with  his  oath. 

Through  the  Spring  and  Summer  of  1862  the  army  of  the 
Potomac  met  with  misfortune  after  misfortune.  The  people 
were  discouraged  and  depressed.  It  seemed  to  Lincoln  that  the 
country  was  being  punished  because  the  scourge  of  slavery 
was  still  in  the  land.  He  felt  the  time  had  come  when  he 
must  respond  to  that  inner  voice  which  cried  to  him:  "Let  my 
people  go."  Believing  that  the  North  would  never  be  success- 
ful in  the  great  struggle  unless  that  command  was  obeyed  he 
set  himself  to  the  act.  Without  consulting  his  Cabinet,  or  giv- 
ing them  any  knowledge  of  what  he  was  doing,  he  prepared  the 
original  draft  of  the  Proclamation  of  Emancipation. 

It  was  late  summer  when  he  called  his  Cabinet  together. 
None  of  the  members  knew  the  occasion  of  the  meeting,  and 
for  a  time  they  were  puzzled  concerning  it.  By  way  of  opening 
the  meeting  Lincoln  took  down  from  a  shelf  a  copy  of  "Ar- 
temus  Ward — His  Book,"  and  read  an  entire  chapter  to  them. 
It  was  a  droll  effusion,  and  Lincoln  laughed  heartily  all  the 
while  that  he  was  reading  it.  It  was  his  way  of  relieving  the 
tension  under  which  he  was  laboring.  He  knew  that  he  was 
taking  a  tremendous  step;  which  involved  the  liberty  of 
four  millions  of  human  beings,  and  of  others  yet  unborn;  one 
too  which  would  revolutionize  the  social  institutions  of  more 
than  a  third  of  the  nation.  But  the  scholarly  gentlemen  of  his 
Cabinet  did  not  understand  the  necessity  of  relief  which  he 
was  experiencing,  and  were  shocked  by  his  levity  on  so  august 
an  occasion  as  a  Cabinet  meeting. 

But,  the  chapter  ended,  Lincoln's  manner  changed  to  one  of 
nobleness,  and,  rising  to  his  full  height,  he  said: 

"I  have  brought  you  together,  gentlemen,  to  read  you  a  Proc- 


FATHER  ABRAHAM"  357 

lamation  of  Emancipation,  which  I  have  determined  to  issue. 
I  do  not  wish  to  ask  advice  on  the  general  question,  because 
I  have  determined  that  for  myself.  I  wish  to  inform  you  of 
my  purpose,  and  to  receive  such  suggestions  upon  minor  points 
as  you  might  be  moved  to  make." 

And  then  in  tense  silence  he  read  the  document.  Some  of 
the  members  approved;  others  deprecated  the  policy;  but,  by 
Mr.  Seward's  advice,  its  issue  was  deferred  until  it  could  be 
given  to  the  country  supported  by  a  military  success,  rather 
than  after  the  greatest  disasters  of  the  war. 

Meanwhile,  the  Confederate  army,  under  General  Lee,  had 
achieved  some  important  successes,  had  crossed  the  Potomac, 
and  was  pushing  forward  to  invade  Maryland  and  Pennsyl- 
vania. The  news  created  something  like  a  panic  in  the  country. 
Lincoln  was  deeply  stirred,  and  in  his  heart  he  made  a  vow  to 
God  that  if  the  invasion  should  be  repelled  he  would  issue  the 
Proclamation. 

The  Confederates  were  repelled.  In  the  bloody  battle  of 
Antietam,  which  took  place  on  the  seventeenth  of  September, 
they  were  routed  and  driven  back  across  the  Potomac,  and 
Maryland  and  Pennsylvania  were  saved. 

"The  time  has  come,"  Lincoln  told  himself,  and  thereupon 
called  his  Cabinet  together. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  believe  that  the  time  has  come  when 
the  country  will  sustain  this  Emancipation  policy.  It  can  no 
longer  be  delayed.  Many  of  my  warmest  friends  and  support- 
ers demand  it;  and,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "I  have  promised 
my  God  that  I  will  do  it." 

Mr.  Chase,  who  sat  nearest  to  him,  was  the  only  one  who 
heard  the  last  words.  Immediately  he  said:  "Did  I  under- 
stand you  correctly,  Mr.  President?" 


358  LINCOLN 

"I  made  a  solemn  vow  before  God,"  said  Lincoln  rever- 
ently, "that  if  General  Lee  should  be  driven  back  from  Penn- 
sylvania, I  would  crown  the  result  by  the  declaration  of  free- 
dom to  the  slaves." 

On  Monday,  the  Twenty-second  of  September,  1862,  the 
Proclamation  of  Emancipation  was  issued  to  the  country.  It 
was  only  a  preliminary  proclamation.  It  declared  free  the 
slaves  of  those  States  or  sections  of  States  which  should  be  in 
rebellion  on  the  First  day  of  January,  1863. 

The  Proclamation  was  hailed  with  great  demonstrations  by 
the  Northern  people.  Congress  expressed  its  cordial  approval, 
and  a  wave  of  new-born  hope  rushed  over  the  country.  From 
that  time  forth  the  war  took  on  a  new  aspect.  "It  was  hence- 
forth a  war  for  the  re-establishment  of  the  Union — a  Union 
without  slavery." 

On  the  First  of  January,  1863,  the  final  Proclamation  of 
Emancipation  was  issued,  and  the  important  act  was  complete. 
It  was  the  central  act  of  Lincoln's  administration,  and  the 
great  event  of  the  nineteenth  century. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINE 


THE    MARTYR 


The  long  war  dragged  out  its  weary  length  with  varying 
fortunes,  and  the  opening  of  1865  found  the  Confederacy  con- 
vulsed with  its  dying  struggles.  There  were  still  pressing  prob- 
lems, sorrow  and  anxiety,  that  beset  the  nation,  but  Lincoln 
was  more  cheerful,  more  hopeful  of  a  peace  that  should  save 
the  Union  than  he  had  been  at  any  time  of  the  war. 

In  February  he  met  Commissioners  of  the  Confederate 
government  on  a  steamer  at  Hampton  Roads,  and  although  the 
interview  led  to  nothing,  he  felt  that  the  fact  that  they  had 
sought  to  negotiate  pointed  to  a  speedy  conclusion  of  the  con- 
flict. 

There  were  also  daily  dispatches  from  General  Grant  tell- 
ing of  the  progress  of  his  campaign  against  Lee  that  were 
gratifying;  Sherman  had  completed  his  march  to  the  sea,  and 
there  was  every  indication  that  the  war  was  fast  approaching 
conclusion.  No  one  viewed  the  approach  of  peace  with  greater 
pleasure  than  did  Lincoln,  and  it  was  with  this  spirit  that  he 
wrote  his  second  inaugural  address, — for  he  had  been  re- 
nominated and  reelected  to  a  second  term, — an  address  so 

359 


360  LINCOLN 

fraught  with  human  sympathy,  so  expressive  of  his  character. 

Lincoln  had  made  no  secret,  among  his  personal  friends, 
that  he  desired  to  be  elected  to  a  second  term.  To  one  of  these 
he  said:  "I  am  trying  to  do  the  best  that  I  can  for  the  country, 
but  if  the  people  desire  to  change,  it  is  not  for  me  to  resist  or 
complain.  Nevertheless,  between  you  and  me,  I  think  the 
change  would  be  impolitic.  I  don't  believe  it  is  wise  to  swap 
horses  while  crossing  a  stream." 

And  he  had  been  reelected.  In  four  years  of  war  he  had 
been  tried  and  not  found  wanting.  There  was  no  longer  doubt 
in  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  both  at  home  and  abroad  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  was  acknowledged  to  be  the  leading  citizen  of 
the  United  States,  and  one  of  the  greatest  rulers  of  the  world. 
The  nations  of  the  earth,  believing  with  the  men,  who  of  old 
sat  on  the  banks  of  the  yellow  Tiber,  that  a  Republican  form 
of  government  could  not  endure,  had  watched  with  wondering 
eyes  as,  under  his  leadership,  the  Union  emerged  triumphant 
from  the  storms  that  rent  it. 

Lincoln's  second  inaugural  day,  March  4th,  1865,  dawned 
dark  and  dismal,  but  the  rain  ceased  when  the  procession  from 
the  White  House  to  the  Capitol  began.  For  the  first  time  in 
the  history  of  the  United  States,  civil  associations  of  negro  citi- 
zens joined  in  the  procession,  and  a  battalion  of  negro  soldiers 
formed  part  of  the  military  escort.  The  ceremonies  took  place, 
as  before,  on  the  eastern  portico  of  the  Capitol,  in  view  of  a 
vast  multitude.  As  Lincoln  came  forward  to  deliver  his  ad- 
dress, the  sun  burst  through  the  clouds,  irradiating  the  scene 
with  splendor.  His  heart  jumped,  and  with  that  tinge  of  super- 
stition that  pervaded  his  being,  he  received  it  as  a  good  omen. 
Another  augury  might  have  been  found  in  the  fact  that  the 
great  bronze  statue  of  Liberty,  which  had  stood  unmounted  on 


THE  MARTYR  361 

the  esplanade  at  the  first  inauguration,  now  crowned  the  dome 
of  the  Capitol.  And  so,  standing  bareheaded  under  the  bril- 
liant March  sky,  Lincoln  delivered  his  second  inaugural  ad- 
dress. 

The  diction,  the  "lofty  tone  and  grand  majesty  of  the  ad- 
dress rivaled  the  fire  and  dignity  of  the  old  Hebrew  prophe- 
cies." It  was  like  a  sacred  poem,  and  the  impression  made  upon 
the  people  was  profound.  Never  before  had  a  President  found 
such  words  in  his  heart: 

"With  malice  towards  none,  with  charity  for  all,  with  firm- 
ness in  the  right,  as  God  gives  us  to  see  the  light,  let  us  strive 
on  to  finish  the  work  we  are  now  in,  to  bind  up  the  nation's 
wounds,  to  care  for  him  who  shall  have  borne  the  battle  and 
for  his  widow  and  orphans,  to  do  all  which  may  achieve  and 
cherish  a  just  and  lasting  peace  among  ourselves  and  with  all 
nations,"  was  the  wonderful  conclusion. 

Chief  Justice  Chase  then  administered  the  oath  of  office, 
after  which  the  people  went  from  the  impressive  scene  with 
thankfulness  that  the  destinies  of  the  country  were  in  such  safe 
keeping. 

The  spring  came  early  that  year  of  1865,  and  with  it  came 
glad  tidings.  The  capture  of  Petersburg  was  announced  on  the 
Third  of  April.  A  short  time  later,  on  the  same  day,  a  dispatch 
told  of  the  fall  of  Richmond.  The  end  of  the  war  was  near. 
The  Capital  was  in  a  tumult  of  triumph  and  excitement,  and 
gave  itself  up  to  an  impromptu  celebration.  But  when,  on  the 
Ninth  of  April,  the  announcement  of  Lee's  surrender  to  Grant 
was  made,  the  city  went  wild  with  joy.  The  Departments  were 
closed,  and  a  general  holiday  was  taken.  The  air  resounded 
with  boom  of  cannon  and  blare  of  martial  music.  But  under- 
neath all  the  jubilation  there  pervaded  a  deep  thankfulness 


362  LINCOLN 

that  the  long  war  was  over.  Peace  had  come  at  last.  Govern- 
ment clerks  gathered  in  the  great  rotunda  of  the  Treasury 
Building,  and  sang  "Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings 
flow."  The  Secretary  of  War  felt  with  the  whole  nation  the 
Providence  of  God  in  the  result,  and  surrounded  the  dome  of 
the  Capitol  with  a  transparency,  reading,  "This  is  the  Lord's 
doings,  and  it  is  marvelous  in  our  eyes." 

Crowds  thronged  the  streets,  and  poured  into  the  White 
House  grounds,  calling  for  Lincoln.  When  at  length  the  well- 
beloved  form  appeared  in  an  upper  window  of  the  mansion, 
and  they  caught  sight  of  his  sad  and  homely  face,  marred  by 
the  griefs  and  sorrows  of  the  people,  they  stretched  out  their 
hands  to  him  with  cries  of  love  and  appreciation.  He  was  one 
of  them,  one  of  the  "common  people"  of  whom  he  said  hu- 
morously, "God  must  have  loved  them,  because  he  made  so 
many  of  them."  And  because  he  was  one  of  them,  his  face  and 
his  words  have  come  to  be  treasured  more  widely  than  those  of 
any  other  man  of  the  ages.  Now,  as  they  called  for  a  speech,  he 
congratulated  them  briefly  on  the  grand  result. 

"But,"  he  said,  "I  understand  that  there  is  to  be  a  more 
elaborate  celebration  later  on,  and  I  shall  have  nothing  to  say 
then  if  it  is  all  dribbled  out  of  me  now." 

The  crowd  laughed  at  this,  delighted  with  the  homely  say- 
ing, and  Lincoln  continued:  "You  have  a  band  with  you,  I  see. 
There  is  one  piece  of  music  I  have  always  liked.  Heretofore  it 
has  not  seemed  the  proper  thing  to  use  in  the  North ;  but  now, 
by  virtue  of  my  prerogative  as  Commander-in-Chief  of  the 
Army  and  Navy,  I  declare  it  contraband  of  war  and  our  law- 
ful prize.  I  ask  the  band  to  play  'Dixie.'  "  Then  he  proposed 
three  cheers  for  General  Grant  and  the  officers  and  men  of  the 


Lincoln  and  Grant  in  Front  of  the  White  House 


THE  MARTYR  363 

army;  and  three  more  for  the  officers  and  men  of  the  navy. 
These  were  given  with  good  will,  after  which  the  crowd  dis- 
persed. 

On  the  Eleventh  of  the  month  the  formal  celebration,  to 
which  Lincoln  alluded,  took  place,  and  on  this  occasion  he  made 
the  last  speech  he  was  ever  to  make.  It  was  not  a  paean  of 
victory,  which  had  been  expected,  but  was  mainly  devoted  to 
the  problems  of  reconstruction,  a  "task,"  he  said,  "fraught 
with  great  difficulty." 

Events  followed  fast  upon  each  other.  The  culmination  of 
the  week's  rejoicing  found  expression  at  Charleston  Harbor 
where,  on  the  Fourteenth  of  April,  the  United  States  flag  was 
raised  again  over  Fort  Sumter. 

Lincoln  was  unable  to  be  present,  but  he  sent  Colonel  Nic- 
olay  as  his  representative.  It  was  the  fifth  day  after  Appo- 
mattox, and  was  one  of  unusual  enjoyment  to  him.  His  son 
Robert  had  returned  from  the  field  with  General  Grant,  and 
Lincoln  spent  an  hour  with  the  young  soldier,  discussing  the 
campaign,  and  his  future.  He  denied  himself  generally  to  the 
throng  of  visitors,  admitting  only  a  few  friends. 

General  Grant,  who  had  just  arrived  from  Appomattox, 
called,  and  Lincoln  invited  him  to  attend  the  Cabinet  meeting 
which  was  to  be  held  that  day,  being  Friday  and  its  regular 
time  of  meeting.  Grant  was  anxious  about  Sherman,  who  was 
confronted  by  the  army  of  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston  in  the 
vicinity  of  Goldsboro,  North  Carolina,  and  expressed  a  desire 
for  news  of  him. 

"I  think  everything  is  all  right  with  General  Sherman," 
spoke  Lincoln  quickly.  "There  is  a  dream  that  I  always  have 
preceding  great  events.  I  had  it  last  night.  I  had  it  before 


364  LINCOLN 

Antietam,  before  Murfreesboro,  Vicksburg  and  Gettysburg. 
My  dream  must  relate  to  Sherman,  as  I  know  of  no  other  im- 
portant event  that  is  likely  to  occur." 

"Tell  us  about  the  dream,  Mr.  President,"  spoke  Secretary 
Seward. 

"It  is  always  the  same,"  said  Lincoln  gravely.  "I  seem  to  be 
in  a  singular  and  indescribable  vessel  that  is  moving  with  great 
rapidity  towards  a  dark  and  indefinite  shore.  A  shore  that  it 
never  reaches,  that  recedes  as  the  vessel  approaches.  A  great 
event  has  always  followed  its  coming,"  he  ended  with  that  curi- 
ous vein  of  mysticism  which,  though  constantly  held  in  check 
by  his  strong  common  sense,  formed  a  remarkable  character- 
istic of  his  nature. 

His  manner  as  he  related  the  dream  made  a  deep  impression 
on  the  members  of  the  Cabinet.  He  was  more  cheerful  and 
happy  than  they  had  ever  seen  him,  manifesting  in  marked 
degree  the  kindness  and  humanity  of  his  disposition.  The  dis- 
cussions were  broad  ones  of  reconstructing  the  South,  of  re- 
opening avenues  of  trade  and  reestablishing  State  govern- 
ments. Throughout  them  Lincoln  displayed  a  depth  of  charity 
and  love  for  his  fellow  men  of  the  South  such  as  he  had  never 
before  exhibited.  He  checked  any  tendency  on  the  part  of  his 
associates  to  be  hard  with  the  people  who  had  been  in  arms 
against  him. 

"We  must  extinguish  our  resentments,"  he  said,  "if  we  ex- 
pect harmony  and  union.  There  is  too  much  of  a  desire  on  the 
part  of  some  of  our  very  good  friends  to  be  masters,  to  inter- 
fere with,  and  to  dictate  to  those  States,  to  treat  the  people  not 
as  fellow  citizens;  there  is  too  little  respect  for  their  rights.  I 
have  no  sympathy  with  such  feelings." 

It  was  his  last  official  utterance  to  his  Cabinet.  His  charity 


THE  MARTYR  365 

for  all  was  exemplified  in  a  number  of  ways  that  day.  In  the 
afternoon  he  signed  a  pardon  for  a  soldier  sentenced  to  be  shot 
for  desertion.  "I  think  the  boy  can  do  us  more  good  above 
ground  than  under  it,"  was  his  comment.  An  application  for 
the  discharge  of  a  Confederate  prisoner  who  wished  to  take 
the  oath  of  allegiance  he  indorsed,  "Let  it  be  done." 

He  went  also  for  a  long  drive  with  Mrs.  Lincoln.  His  mood 
all  day  had  been  very  happy  and  tender.  He  talked  much  of 
the  past  and  the  future.  What  would  be  best  for  them  and  the 
boys  when  they  should  finally  leave  the  White  House,  at  the 
end  of  the  second  term.  Mrs.  Lincoln  wished  to  visit  Europe, 
and  Lincoln  was  undecided  whether  it  would  be  best  to  return 
to  the  old  home  in  Springfield,  or  to  go  to  California,  where 
he  thought  the  boys  might  have  a  better  start  in  life  than  in  the 
older  portions  of  the  Republic. 

As  President  Lincoln  and  General  Grant  were  the  lions  of 
the  day  the  manager  of  Ford's  theatre  had  not  only  invited 
them  to  be  present  that  night  at  a  benefit  for  Miss  Laura 
Keene,  but  had  announced  in  the  newspapers  that  they  would 
positively  attend.  But  General  Grant,  who  had  been  joined  by 
Mrs.  Grant,  was  anxious  to  push  on  to  Burlington,  New  Jer- 
sey, to  see  his  daughter  who  was  at  school  there,  and  asked 
Lincoln  to  excuse  his  attendance;  which,  of  course,  Lincoln 
did.  He  did  not  care  to  attend  himself,  but  rather  than  disap- 
point the  theatre  people,  for  it  was  a  gala  night,  he  decided 
to  go.  To  make  up  a  party  Mrs.  Lincoln  invited  Miss  Clara 
Harris,  daughter  of  Senator  Harris  of  New  York,  and  her 
fiance,  Major  Henry  R.  Rathbone. 

The  Presidential  party  was  late  in  reaching  the  theatre,  and 
the  first  act  was  about  half  over.  The  action  of  the  play  ceased 
as  the  President  entered  his  box ;  the  audience  rose  and  cheered 


366  LINCOLN 

him  enthusiastically,  while  the  band  played,  "Hail  to  the 
Chief."  After  the  party  was  seated  the  play  was  resumed. 

The  theatre  was  one  of  Lincoln's  few  relaxations.  He  could 
rest  there,  for  he  was  being  hounded  to  death  by  office-seekers, 
and  for  two  or  three  hours  he  could  get  relief  from  their  pur- 
suit. Now,  as  he  sat  with  Mrs.  Lincoln  in  the  rear  of  the  box, 
he  gave  himself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  play.  Suddenly, 
during  the  third  act  as  a  ripple  of  applause  died  away  in  the 
audience,  the  report  of  a  pistol  shot  rang  out  sharply,  start- 
ling the  occupants  of  the  box.  Mrs.  Lincoln  screamed  as  Lin- 
coln's head  dropped  and  he  fell  forward  insensible.  Major 
Rath-bone  sprang  to  his  feet  as  a  man,  dropping  his  smoking 
weapon  and  drawing  from  its  sheath  a  long  knife,  rushed  to- 
wards the  front  of  the  box.  The  officer  grappled  with  him,  but 
the  assassin  flung  him  aside,  slashing  him  severely  on  the  arm 
with  his  knife.  Then,  placing  his  left  hand  on  the  railing  of  the 
box,  the  murderer  vaulted  lightly  to  the  stage.  He  would  have 
got  safely  away  but  for  his  spur  catching  in  the  folds  of  the 
Union  flag  with  which  it  was  draped.  He  fell  on  the  stage,  the 
torn  flag  trailing  on  his  spur,  but  rose  instantly  as  if  he  had 
received  no  hurt,  though  in  fact  the  fall  had  broken  his  leg, 
turned  to  the  audience,  brandishing  his  dripping  knife  and 
shouting  the  State  motto  of  Virginia: 

"Sic  Semper  Tyrannis!  The  South  is  avenged,"  then  fled 
rapidly  across  the  stage  and  out  of  sight;  though  not  before 
many  people  had  recognized  him  as  John  Wilkes  Booth,  an 
actor. 

Pale  and  bleeding,  Major  Rathbone  had  grabbed  vainly  at 
his  clothing  as  he  was  leaping  over  the  railing;  now  his  voice 
mingled  with  the  assassin's  shout,  "Stop  that  man!  He  has  shot 
the  President." 


THE  MARTYR  367 

Then,  not  regarding  his  own  grievous  hurt,  he  rushed  to  the 
door  to  summon  aid.  He  found  it  barred,  and  on  the  outside 
some  one  was  beating  and  clamoring  for  entrance.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  opening  it  finally,  and  a  young  army  officer  followed 
by  two  surgeons  entered.1 

In  the  theatre  excitement  now  followed  the  stupefaction  into 
which  the  swift  action  of  the  crime  had  thrown  actors  and  audi- 
ence alike.  Men  rushed  upon  the  stage,  and  into  the  alley  to 
find  the  assassin  gone.  Women  shrieked  and  fainted.  The  up- 
roar was  awful;  the  scene  indescribable. 

The  stricken  President  was  laid  upon  the  floor,  his  head  sup- 
ported in  the  lap  of  Laura  Keene,  the  actress,  who  had  gone 
into  the  box  with  water  and  cordials.  The  surgeons  found  the 
wound  in  the  head  which  was  quickly  seen  to  be  fatal. 

At  first  it  was  thought  that  the  President  might  be  taken  to 
the  White  House,  but  the  surgeons  forbade  it;  so,  by  Major 
Rathbone's  direction,  he  was  carried  across  the  street  to  the 
nearest  house,  and  laid  upon  a  bed  in  a  small  room,  at  the  rear 
of  the  hall,  upon  the  ground  floor.  Mrs.  Lincoln  followed,  half- 
distracted,  tenderly  cared  for  by  Miss  Harris.  Rathbone  ex- 
hausted by  loss  of  blood  fainted  and  had  to  be  sent  home.  Mes- 
sengers were  sent  at  once  for  Lincoln's  sons,  for  the  Cabinet 
members,  for  the  Surgeon-general,  and  for  Doctor  Stone,  the 
family  physician.  The  little  room  was  soon  crowded  by  promi- 
nent men. 

There  was  no  hope  although  the  surgeons  worked  over  him 
through  the  night.  Mrs.  Lincoln,  distracted  and  unable  to  con- 
trol a  grief  destined  eventually  to  unbalance  her  reason,  sat 
in  an  adjoining  room,  a  few  feet  from  the  death  chamber.  Her 
son  Robert,  manfully  subduing  his  own  grief,  tried  vainly  to 

i  This  account  founded  upon  that  of  Nicolay  and  Hay. 


368  LINCOLN 

comfort  her.  Even  poor  little  Tad,  Lincoln's  idol  and  solace, 
endeavored  in  his  boyish  way  to  soothe  her,  though  at  times  so 
overcome  by  his  own  woe  that  he  could  only  sob  piteously, 
"They  have  shot  my  papa  dead!  They  have  shot  my  papa 
dead!"  At  intervals  the  family  crept  to  the  bedside  for  one 
more  look  at  the  loved  face  that  was  plainly  marked  with 
death's  seal. 

The  morning  dawned,  dark  and  rainy  as  though  the  very 
skies  were  weeping  in  unison  with  the  world-wide  sorrow  at 
the  passing  of  Lincoln.  The  sorrowing  faces  of  the  group  about 
the  bed  were  scarcely  less  haggard  than  that  of  the  dying  man. 
His  breathing  grew  fainter  and  fainter;  presently  it  ceased.  A 
look  of  ineffable  peace  spread  over  his  features.  The  great 
heart  so  full  of  mercy  and  tenderness  was  stilled  forever.  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  was  dead. 

Lincoln  was  dead,  but  the  government  he  had  died  to  save 
lived  on.  In  the  unity  of  the  nation;  in  the  States  bound  to- 
gether by  bands  of  steel,  he  still  lives.  Dead,  and  yet  he  speaks. 
From  the  hillside  of  Gettysburg  we  still  hear  the  immortal 
words : 

"Let  us  here  highly  resolve,  that  this  nation  under  God, 
shall  have  a  new  birth  of  freedom;  and  that  a  government  of 
the  people,  by  the  people,  and  for  the  people  shall  not  perish 
from  the  earth." 


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